


Tryin' to Find Our Way Home

by nihonlove



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel, Alpha/Beta, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Angst with a Happy Ending, Baby Sam Winchester, Barista Dean, Breastfeeding, Doctor Castiel, Domestic Violence, F/F, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Implied Mpreg, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Male Lactation, Mechanic Dean, Mpreg, Omega Dean, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent Dean, Parent-Child Relationship, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Relationship(s), Past Underage, Post Mpreg, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sam Winchester is Dean Winchester's Son, Self-Worth Issues, Single Parents, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 23:57:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4200003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nihonlove/pseuds/nihonlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester was ready to leave his old hometown of Lawrence for good, to leave behind the scars he’d been given there as well as the reputation and whispers that followed him around wherever he went. He had packed up his things, with his stuff in his car and his six-month-old son on his hip. He would go to Sioux Falls to stay with an old family friend, Bobby, start afresh and never look back again. But it will be easier said than done when the scars won’t fade, the memories won’t vanish and the one who hurt him is still out there, restrained for a time maybe, but no doubt only awaiting his time to reach him and Sam again...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story I've been working on for a while now and finally got around to posting. The idea for this plot has been cooking in my mind for even longer, as I originally planned it for another fandom, so I'm glad it finally gets to see the light of the day.
> 
> As always, special thanks to Eghfeithrean for her beta-reading, support and ideas, especially since this is not a major fandom for her.

Dean was ready to leave.

It was nearing midnight on a cool night in late October. The car was packed. Sam was sleeping in his car seat. It was time to go.

As Dean closed the backseat door of his beloved ‘67 Impala shut next to his snoozing infant son, he took one last glance at the place he had spent most of the last six years of his life at. It was a big, cream-coloured stone house, two stories high and with many windows, surrounded by a rather generous garden. He could still remember clearly when he had seen it for the first time, when he’d first come to live there at the age of 17. It had seemed bigger than any house he’d ever seen, but somehow that hadn’t made him impressed, only frightened. The house was also far from the city and that had unnerved him even before he had stepped inside it with its seemingly sterile lemon scent and into the life that had been waiting for him there. He had wanted to flee right then.

But he hadn’t and had instead stayed for over five years. Now the house didn’t seem frightening anymore, only painful. There were ghosts that haunted him in there, no matter where he went. There were ghosts and whispers in this whole town, now. His most private affairs, his horrible secrets, were now all public knowledge. That’s why he had to leave. If his choices concerning this house were to live in it or leave it without selling it, the choice was clear. It wasn’t going to be easy, but it was all Dean could do to carry on. All Lawrence had to offer now were bad memories and a reputation that followed him wherever he went. He needed to start fresh.

All Dean now had was loaded in his car, and it truly wasn’t much. His clothes, together with Sammy’s, only filled two large plastic bags, hauled to the front seat of his car. All of Sammy’s other stuff – his crib, carriage, changing table and so on – was in the trunk, most of it broken down the way they had been when they’d been bought so they would fit. And on the front seat Dean had a diaper bag ready for the trip. Dean barely had anything to his name, now. But in a way it was fitting that his car was able to hold all his earthly possessions. He had practically grown up in this car, his Dad driving him around in it around America’s vast plains at various points of Dean’s childhood, and he had lived in it not too long ago as well, when he’d been pregnant with Sam.

Dean sighed, taking one last glance at the house before he began to head over to the front of the car to climb to the driver’s seat. Even without traffic, it wasn’t the shortest drive to Sioux Falls and he had to get going.

However, just then, he saw the headlights of a car coming by. For a minute, his heart leapt to his throat.

( _“Remember, Deano, it doesn’t matter how loud you scream. We’re so far from everything and everyone that no one will ever hear it. So you might as well let me hear those pretty cries of yours."_ )

Then his eyes got more used to the sudden light and a better view of the car – a worn-down, old, blue Nissan – and realised he recognised it. He was quite intimately familiar with it, in fact, having worked on it a few times over the past seven months or so ( _Just so he could have something to do, anything to take his mind off of things, anything to somehow try and pay back for all the kindness..._ ). The sight confused him, but at the same time made him glad. If there was any car in the world he would’ve liked to see at this moment besides his own, it was this one.

The headlights of the car turned off as Dean approached the driver’s seat. He smiled at the driver – a tall, muscular Alpha with fair hair and beard – who stepped out of the car soon after, but just barely. He hadn’t expected to see him anymore. He had already helped him with the packing and they had already said their goodbyes during the day.

“Hey, brother.” Benny said to him with a small smile as he closed the door to his car behind himself. Dean scented him a bit, just because Benny’s scent was familiar and comforting to him; all masculine earth and spices Dean was half-convinced followed him from the kitchen. “I’m glad I caught you before you went.”

“I didn’t expect to see you anymore. I thought we had already said everything we wanted to say.” Dean replied, now noticing the decently-sized giftbag Benny was carrying in one hand.

Benny shrugged, but Dean could smell slight sadness in his scent as it turned a drop sourer. “I felt like I had to see you off properly anyway, as you really went.”

“Does Andrea know you’re here?” _With me_ was implied. For the past seven months or so, Dean had been living with Benny and his mate, Andrea, in their apartment, having had no other place to go. He had known Benny since he’d been 15; they had met while they were both working at a local gas station together, Dean to help pay the bills and Benny to put himself through cooking school. Benny had shown him the ropes and looked out for him, talking to him when it was quiet and even bringing him lunches most days of the week when he saw Dean wasn’t brining his own. He had never asked uncomfortable questions, just silently helped. He had continued to do that after Dean had begun living at that house and then offered Dean his home when Dean had finally had the guts to leave it.

Dean knew him and Sam staying with Benny and Andrea had put a strain on the latter two’s marriage and it was just another reason he had to get the hell out of dodge. Dean knew what people thought about him bunking with Benny and how it seemed. He also knew that despite the evidence to the contrary, many gossiped and believed Sam was actually Benny’s, what with Dean and Benny going back a while and all. If Andrea had heard any of that, Dean could only imagine how she would’ve felt, knowing that in the eyes of society Dean and Benny were the more acceptable coupling over the two Alphas. Not to mention that Dean could so easily get knocked up, not just by Benny but by anyone, while she and Benny struggled to conceive together.

That’s why Dean also had to leave. Benny was probably his only friend in the world and he owed him so very much. He didn’t want to stick around and screw up his life more than he already had. Nothing indecent had ever happened between the two of them, but there probably wasn’t anything Dean could do to convince the townspeople of that, unless he wanted to go and show them the blood tests that had been done.

“She knows. She wasn’t too happy about it though.” Benny mumbled, rolling his eyes. But the soft sorrow remained in his scent and Dean could also hear a slight note of bitterness in his tone.

“That’s why you shouldn’t have come. You’ve done enough for me – for us – already, Benny. I was content with the goodbyes we already said.” Dean said, though there wasn’t much bite to his words. He truly was grateful to Benny, and couldn’t say a bad word to him, but Benny wasn’t making it any easier for Dean to try and save his marriage. But at least he hadn’t lied to Andrea about where he was going. He hoped.

Benny just looked straight at him, his eyes properly now reflecting the sorrow Dean had already detected in his scent as they glistened in the streetlights. “Is there no way I can make you stay, brother?”

Dean sighed. “Sorry, Benny, but honestly there’s nothing for me left here, except you. There are too many memories, too many ghosts, too many whispers…too much of just – everything. I need to go. Somewhere where me ‘n Sammy can start over, where we’re not known. Where...” _where **he** won’t immediately know to look_. Dean didn’t finish that last sentence; it would’ve been too pathetic and there was no reason to end all this on a sour note.

“...I do get it, brother, I do. I just wish...” he shook his head sadly. “I just wish things were different.”

Dean chuckled miserably. “You and me both.”

There was a moment’s silence.

“Can I at least...say goodbye to Sammy?” Benny queried, softly, quietly.

“Of course.” Dean said, starting to walk back over to his car. “Try not to wake him though, the last thing I need right now is a crying baby.” Not that Sam cried all that much. Dean was fairly convinced Sammy was the calmest, quietest, nicest baby ever to exist. He didn’t cry a lot and when he did, he was fairly easy to soothe. Benny tended to say it was just because Dean was so well-attuned to Sam’s specific cries that he always knew exactly what Sam wanted, but Dean was more convinced Sam was just a smart little tyke who knew what he wanted and how to get it. And also that it was better to be easy for your new, young Daddy.

He opened the right backdoor of his car and Benny crouched on the curb to take a better look at Sam’s sleeping, peaceful face, scenting him as well. Benny reached a hand out and softly stroked Sam’s small cheek with his knuckles. “Bye Sammy.” He mumbled, his voice vaguely thick and Dean was fairly certain he was near to crying, even though he couldn’t see his face. “I hope we’ll get to meet again someday. Till then, be a good boy to your Daddy.”

Dean was overcome again, as he had been various times, mostly when alone at night in bed when he was unable to sleep, by thoughts about what it would’ve been like if Benny had actually been Sam’s father like people seemed to believe. At least then he wouldn’t have to be so afraid for Sam, because he’d know that his Alpha father was a kind, good man who genuinely cared about Sam and would take care of him if something were to happen to Dean. He wouldn’t have to be afraid that any moment, Sam would be taken from him, because surely the only good thing in his life couldn’t last, Sam would surely disappear someday soon, one way or another...but Dean knew it was selfish to think like that. It could’ve destroyed the very marriage he was trying to save by leaving. And it wasn’t like it was possible anyway. Dean had done a lot of things while he’d been living at that house: he’d stolen, lied and fled, just to name the big three. But he’d never been unfaithful. Dean Winchester was many things, but a committer of adultery wasn’t one of them.

Benny had also already been with Andrea when Dean had first met him, so Dean had always known nothing was going to come out of the tingles on his hand or the thumping of his heart at 15 when Benny had given him lunchboxes and their hands had touched. And in any case, Dean wasn’t 15 anymore. He was 23 and had seen far too much already. He was the sole guardian of a baby just shy of six months of age, with no place to call his own and less than a hundred bucks to his name. Even if the feelings he had had as a teenager for Benny had remained – and they hadn’t, they truly hadn’t. Not that it would have really mattered. As he’d grown older, Dean had realised what he had most appreciated about Benny had always been the fact that he was kind to Dean, helped him out and listened to him. That he was Dean’s friend. That was how Dean liked him, now. Besides, Benny was mated and honestly, the last thing Dean was looking for right now was a relationship.

Benny rose and shut the door again, quietly so as not to startle Sam. Then, he held out the bag in his hand t to Dean. “I got you a going-away present.” “Benny, no, you shouldn’t have done that. I already owe you far too much...”

“You owe me nothin’, brother. All I done for you and Sammy, I done ‘cause I wanned to. ‘N I want you to have this. So take it, ‘cause I’m not leaving wit’ it.” Dean hesitated a moment, but relented and took the bag. “See what’s inside.”

Dean put his hand in the bag and took out a leather-bound, large book. It was a photo album. “Benny...”

Benny shrugged. “You said there are too many bad memories here, ‘n you probably have a point there. I jus’ hope you’ll have better memories over there in Sioux Falls or wherever you might end up after. Wit’ that album you can keep track of those memories, maybe, and see how Sammy grows, ‘n then remember them even years later.”

“Benny, I don’t know what to say...” Dean had never been good with this kind of sentimental crap.

“Look inside before you say anything. I took the liberty to put in the first picture.”

Dean opened the album at the first page and found his own tired face with red-rimmed eyes looking back at him. He was in a hospital gown, surrounded by white sheets and holding a small, wrapped-up wrinkly thing with a blue hat on its head in his arms. It was the photo from the day Sam had been born and he vaguely remembered Benny taking the photo. Benny had been there in the delivery room because Dean had had no one else to go there with him. Dean remembered the awful pain of the labour and the tidal wave of emotions he’d been having when this photo had been taken. He hadn’t known whether to smile or cry. He had loved that wrinkly alien in his arms more than anything else in the world from the moment he’d seen him for the first time – before that, even, when Sammy had still been in his belly – but the weight of parenthood had felt so heavy on his shoulders. He had had no idea how he was going to be able to take care of this small, precious life; how he was going to provide for him and protect him. Dean hadn’t had a penny to his name and the largest threat to his and Sam’s safety had still been out there, at the time. It still was, if restrained and locked up for the moment. But it would get out soon enough and when it would, it would find them and kill them. Dean could only hope that fleeing Lawrence was going to delay that a little while longer, perhaps so that it would only get to him and Sam might be spared.

Before he could get too deep into those kinds of thoughts again, he merely looked up and said: “Thanks, Benny. I appreciate it.” He put the album back into the bag for now.

Benny smiled sadly at him and Dean stepped closer to hug him one last time, just so he didn’t have to look at his pitiful face anymore. “Thanks for everything.” He mumbled to Benny’s shoulder as the breathed in Benny’s scent and basked in the familiar comfort it brought him.

“Text me when you get dere. And I hope you’ll call, at least once in a while.”

“I’ll try.” Dean chuckled as they parted. They looked at each other a moment longer, but there really was nothing more to be said. So, silently, Dean finally went back to the driver’s side of the car and got behind the wheel. He looked over the seat at Sam, who was still sleeping peacefully, smelling all clean and pure and comforting. To Dean, there was no better smell in the world than his son’s peace of mind.

“Let’s go Sammy. Uncle Bobby is probably waiting for us already.” And so, Dean turned the keys in the slot, listened to his beloved car come to life and pressed down the gas pedal. He was finally leaving his old life behind. He just hoped what was waiting on the other side was better than what he’d experienced in life so far.

Benny stood still in his rear-view mirror all the way until Dean was too far away to see him.


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so very sorry this is so late! It took me a while to get motivated to edit it and then it was with my beta for a few weeks because she's been busy :(. But I want you all to know that I am writing this story all the time and it is coming along, even if it might not seem like it.
> 
> Thank you everyone who left kudos, bookmarked and/or commented, already! The support has been incredibly heartening!

Dean drove through the night, first past the houses with the pumpkin lanterns and other Halloween decorations covering them, and then over the nearly empty highways and the occasional less known dirt road. He passed the Kansas state line. The mundanity of driving was comforting and familiar, but also silent to the point of being agonising.

In silence, it was harder to avoid thinking painful thoughts.

But Sam was sleeping and Dean didn’t want to wake him up with music from the radio or the cassette tapes. By thinking that, he managed to not touch the radio volume button to turn on the sounds for the first few hours of the drive, but in the end it was too much. He put on a soft rock station, reasoning to himself that if Sammy did wake up, he could just turn it off and stop the car to soothe him. Sam had always been fairly easy to put to sleep, even if he had been woken from a dream.

Sammy didn’t wake up to the music, and Dean was relieved. It was easier and nicer to drive when there was at least something to distract him from the darker places of his mind, the ones he had to avoid thinking about in order to stay sane. The music also helped to keep awake in the little hours, driving through the darkness.

They were quite near to the border of South Dakota when Sammy began to stir and whine. Dean could faintly smell the scent of fresh urine coming from Sam’s direction, mixed with Sam’s own sour distress and discomfort. Time to change the little one’s diaper, it seemed. It wasn’t a big deal though as Dean also found himself rather hungry and the gas was beginning to run out.

They came across a gas station soon enough, which also included a small diner, and Dean pulled over there. After grabbing the diaper bag from next to himself, Dean headed over to the backdoor of the car to get Sam. Despite his surely soggy and cooling diaper, Sammy smiled at him when he opened the door, waving his little arms up and down in the air a little, as if he knew relief was close. He always seemed so excited to see Dean, as if nothing could be better than to have Dean near him. It made Dean smile right back at him, too. Sammy seemed like the only thing these days that made him smile.

“Hey buddy. Whaddaya say we get you cleaned up?” Dean said softly as he unbuckled Sam from his carseat and took him into his arms, where Sam put his head on Dean’s shoulder, scenting him. Despite growing fast, Sam was still going through the whole scent-bonding thing where a baby would first learn to recognise their parents by scent, finding special comfort in that scent once familiar with it. He seemed so small in Dean’s arms even now, too. He was still learning to sit up on his own but could turn on his stomach or back at will, rolling around in whatever free space he had. He still seemed so fragile to Dean though, so vulnerable and breakable. Sammy was innocent about the ways of the world, about the things Dean had been through, but Dean was only grateful for that. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if Sam had to suffer because of the choices Dean had made. He was still terrified at times that he had made the wrong choice; that Sam would someday end up paying the price. Dean wasn’t one for praying, but lately it seemed like that was all he could do to somehow try and make some difference in his and Sam’s lives. Pray that he would get to keep Sam. Pray that Sam would get everything he ever wanted in life; that Dean would be good enough and be able to give him that. Pray that if it ever came down to it, _He_ would only kill Dean and leave Sam alone.

Dean shut the car door and headed over to the diner. It was just one of those small ones that you often came across on highways like this; one that mostly had windows for walls and decorated with out-dated, 50s-style plastic booths. He headed straight for the bathrooms and, after a moment’s hesitation, decided to go to the ladies’. He couldn’t be sure how well the men’s room was equipped or covered. Plus he figured he was less likely to get weird looks in the ladies’ room, where they were, regardless of sex, all birthgivers and nurturers; the ones expected to change their babies’ diapers.

Dean went to the bathroom and found it – to his relief – mostly clean and completely empty, as well as equipped with a changing station. He worked though the changing process quickly and easily, used to it by now, and Sam’s onesie that opened at the bottom and Sam’s calmness made his job relatively stress-free. Soon enough, Sam was in a dry diaper and comfortable again and seemed much calmer and happier by the fact. Dean tossed the dirty diaper and washed his hands before picking his son up once more and heading out to the diner.

There weren't many customers, so Dean took a booth, even though it was just him and Sam in their group. He chose one with a baby chair already at the end of the table, so he could put Sam there while he ate. For now he kept the pup in his arms. A middle-aged Beta waitress with greying red hair and a slightly unpleasant metallic smell came over to them in her white uniform and apron, which further made Dean associate this place with the 50s. She raised a single confused eyebrow of disapproval at him, but Dean decided to ignore it as he ordered pancakes, bacon and coffee, even though he hadn’t even looked at the menu. He only hoped this diner matched those he had visited earlier many times in his life and would serve them as well.

“You got it, dear.” The waitress said, writing his order down on the notepad she had, and then gestured to Sam. “Would you like the seasonal pumpkin syrup or the regular one with your pancakes? Or anything for the li’l one there?”

“No, he'll be fine, thanks. And I’ll have the regular syrup, please.” Dean was still giving Sam his milk, though he was planning on beginning to wean Sam off of it once they get to Bobby’s, since the baby books he had read had told him that six months was the right age to slowly start introducing more solid foods into a baby’s diet, but Sam usually no longer required night feeding. The waitress merely shrugged before heading over to the door behind the front counter to the kitchen of the place.

Dean knew he probably looked out of place here, all alone in the middle of nowhere with a baby on his hip. He could feel the stares the few other patrons of the diner were giving him and he had seen the look the waitress had given him. But then, that was the story of his life basically. He had always been a bit too big for an Omega, all broad shoulders and long legs, and he was taller than many Alphas he knew. Dean could easily pass for any other type now that he was fully grown, and especially since most of his scent was masked by the scent-blockers he wore to wean himself off of any...misguided neediness or affection. All that revealed his type anymore were his admittedly plump lips and big eyes with long eyelashes. He hadn’t always been this big though, and he kind of wondered if he would have ended up where he was now if he had just grown into his body earlier. Would he have been considered desirable at all if he had been this big at 17, instead of the slight boy with even plusher lips and wider eyes?

Sam was beginning to make slightly unhappy noises, tug at Dean’s collar and palm at his face with his tiny hands, likely detecting the distress in Dean’s scent and simultaneously trying to distract him and find out what was wrong. Dean began to gently bounce his son on his knee to calm him, while softly murmuring: “It’s okay Sammy. Daddy’s okay. You’re okay.” Thinking about the past now that everything was all said and done was no use anyway.

When Dean’s food arrived, he put Sam into the chair and ate as quickly as he could. He didn’t like it when Sam was close and he or any other person wasn’t able to hold him. He knew Sam didn’t like it either. Sure enough, Sam began to make fussy noises, and although he wasn’t crying as of yet, Dean could feel and see the stares of the other people in the diner. It made him feel like a shitty parent, not being able to be everything Sam needed at all times, but it wasn’t like there was anything he could do about it. He was alone with Sam and he guessed that whenever people usually needed both hands in order to be able to eat, their mate usually took the child instead if the child didn’t like to sit on their own. But Dean and Sam didn’t have anyone else that could take Sam into their lap while Dean ate, so they would just have to deal.Thinking this didn’t make the twisting guilt in Dean’s stomach go away though.

Dean finished soon enough though and quickly soothed Sam back to happiness. He could now tell that Sam’s fussiness was at least partially also due to sleepiness and he shushed him softly as he attempted to get Sam to sleep again. He paid for his meal at the front counter, making sure to leave as much tip as he could, before going to pay for the gas he was going to draw. He then headed back over to his car. Already while he was walking there, he began to hum “Hey Jude” under his breath. It was Sammy’s sleepy time song, as it had been Dean’s once, a long time ago, and it always seemed to knock the pup right out. Indeed, even now his eyelids began to droop. Dean gently opened the backdoor of the car, singing softly under his breath as he carefully put Sam back to his carseat and strapped him in once more. He then closed the door again as quietly as he could so as not to startle his son and headed to the frontseat to drive the Impala to where he could get some gas into her. After he was done with that, he got to his seat again and began to drive away from this judgemental state and the people that thought they knew him but in reality had no clue.

The sun was starting to come up around the time Dean finally reached Sioux Falls, South Dakota. He had spent most of his childhood summers here, staying with his Uncle Bobby while his Dad, John, had driven around the country doing heaven knows what. For many years, this city and Bobby’s salvage yard had been the only solid home Dean had known in his life; a place where he had been allowed to be a child, where he never had to worry about when he was going to eat next or see an adult next. A place where he had been allowed to play and have fun and be carefree. Bobby had taught him how to fix cars, had taken him to play baseball and to swim, and Dean had even had other children around him that he could’ve called friends.

Now, however, it had been nearly a decade since he’d last been here. At 14, during what would become his last summer with Bobby, Dean had got his first heat and presented as an Omega to the surprise of practically everyone, not the least Dean himself. Dean had always been thought to be far too Alpha-like in his assertiveness, mouthiness and interests that no one had imagined he’d be an Omega instead, until it had actually happened. After it had eventually come to pass though, Dean had felt like everyone around him had instead said “Yeah, I knew it all along.” Everyone had seemed to say that Dean had always just been too pretty, too doe-eyed and too nurturing, what with the way he had taken care of the household and cooked for his father whenever they had been staying off the road. They had also said that Dean’s attempts at “playing Alpha” had always seemed forced, as if he’d been overcompensating. Dean had bit down on his lip, his fists held tight at his sides, angry and frustrated at these words, feeling like the whole world had been in on a lie or a joke that he hadn’t been a part of and hadn’t been able to understand. He had cooked and taken care of the house because his Dad hadn’t been able to do it do it, and if he hadn’t done it then the house would have smelt and there would never have been anything decent to eat. And though he’d always enjoyed cooking, it didn’t mean he didn’t also enjoy working with cars or listening to classic rock music. But when people had spoken about these things as if he could only like or do one or the other, it had felt strange and incomprehensible.

Regardless, after that summer he hadn’t seen Bobby again. Bobby was an Alpha, and Dean’s Dad had felt like it was inappropriate for an unmated but presented Omega to be around an unrelated Alpha who didn’t have a mate. It could also have had something to do with the fact that John and Bobby had had a terrible fight the day John had taken Dean away to eventually finally settle back down in Lawrence, where Dean had been born. Dean knew his Dad had been mad that Bobby hadn’t called him right away when Dean had presented. What he’d done instead was bring Dean toys and food to the attic where Dean had stayed the duration of his first ever heat, and after it had been over, had treated Dean as if nothing had changed aside from asking if he was all right and if he wanted Bobby to take him to the drugstore to get him on suppressants (Dean had wanted it so). To Dean, it had seemed like this one thing had changed everything he’d known about the world and about what he could and should do in it; what his place in it was. But he’d been only 14, not even allowed to drive yet and still in the custody of his Alpha Dad, his sire, so there wasn’t much he could’ve done about it, no matter how unfair it had felt to him. He’d truly cared about Bobby, seen him as a second father almost, and he’d always been safe with him. Why had it had to be different just because he was an Omega?

But before he’d left that day with his Dad, Bobby had given him a card with his phone number on it, with the words: “If you ever need help, son, just call this number and I’ll do whatever I can for you.”

Dean had lost that card over the years, particularly after he had left his Dad’s house and hadn’t been able to have much contact with anyone over the past six years or so after. But after he’d given birth to Sam and things had begun to proceed – when Dean had realised he couldn’t stay in Lawrence once everything had been said and done – he’d had Benny look up Singer Salvage Yard in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, and had got a phone number out of that, which he had rung.

_“Singer Salvage Yard, how may I help you?” A vaguely familiar female voice had answered Dean’s call._

_“Hello, this is…I mean, could I speak to Bobby Singer, please?” Dean had spoken, trying to nag himself to remember who that voice belonged to, because he knew he had heard it before and was certain he knew the person behind it._

_“Who wants to know?” The lady at the other end had asked._

_“This is, uh, Dean Lo- I mean, Winchester, Dean Winchester.” Dean had said, cursing himself for almost slipping up with his old name. Dean had wanted nothing more to do with that name, and Bobby wouldn’t have known him by that name anyway._

_“Dean?” The voice on the other end had suddenly become higher, and he could hear its owner take in a breath of surprise. “Hold on, son.”_

_Dean had waited as asked, with a thumping heart, until he’d heard the familiar gruff old-man voice he still recognised as Bobby say: “Dean?” on the other line._

_After that, Dean had given the minimum details to Bobby, silently asking if what Bobby had offered all those years ago still stood. He had told him he was a fresh parent and needed somewhere to stay outside of Lawrence. He hadn’t gone into details, not wanting to talk about them and especially not over the phone, but he had let Bobby know that he wasn’t out in the street with a baby, and that he didn’t need a place to stay because the child was illegitimate and John had thrown him out._

Afterwards, Bobby had sighed deeply over the line and Dean had for a moment been afraid he’d say no. He would’ve understood if he had; after all, Dean hadn’t seen him in years and he couldn’t assume Bobby would just open his house and home to Dean and a newborn baby when Dean hadn’t so much as called over the years before this to let Bobby know he’d been mated, that he’d become a parent. But all Bobby had said had been: “When will you two be coming over? I’ll need to get the guest room cleaned up.”

And now Dean was back here, in the only other solid home he’d known aside from Lawrence and maybe this very car he was driving. From what he could see in the early morning light and from what he could remember, Sioux Falls hadn’t much changed since his childhood. It still wasn’t by far the biggest city Dean had seen, but neither was it the smallest. The October morning was damp, cool and misty, which Dean admitted was new, having only known this place as it was in summertime. There were both apartment buildings that looked like big stone boxes with windows and nice single homes, though some of them decorated most outrageously for Halloween, along the way to Bobby’s. He looked at the map he’d had in the glove compartment for directions, having never actually driven in the area himself, but soon enough found himself passing places he realised he recognised. He’d been to that park, he’d biked past that house. Some of the buildings were more or less different than they’d been when he’d last seen them, but he could see the larger picture and understand he was getting closer to where he and Sammy needed to be.

The Singer Salvage Yard was in the suburbs and the old rusty metal sign above the gate there was the exact same one Dean remembered from his childhood. The yard itself was still cluttered with piles and piles of works-in-process cars of many different models and many different colours. The mess of it was familiar, even if the cars were different; Dean had very clear, happy memories of that very mess being his kingdom, his jungle, where he had both played and found peace in hiding when he’d wanted to be alone.

He finally reached Bobby’s blue-painted home, the wooden two-story house with an attic and a porch. It looked exactly the same as Dean remembered it (and they didn’t have pumpkin lanterns or other decorations anywhere). And on the frontsteps leading up to the porch and the front door, holding a cup of what Dean could guess to be coffee, was none other than Bobby Singer. Accompanying him was a lady with long brunette hair, whom Dean recognised as Ellen Harvelle, Bobby’s longtime friend, with whose daughter Dean had used to play with as a child. It was then that Dean finally realised it had been Ellen who had answered the phone when he’d called.

The two elders stood up as they saw him drive towards them and began to come down the steps. Dean parked on the curb for now – he could always move the car later, but this way it would be easier to take all his and Sam’s stuff up to the house – and with fast movements and a nervously beating heart, stepped out of the car.

Bobby approached him and Dean walked wordlessly to meet him and the smile growing on Bobby’s familiar face. He looked just about the same as Dean remembered him, if slightly more wrinkled, and with more grey in his reddish beard and moustache. Dean was taller than Bobby now, which was strange to notice, but not unexpected. Dean hadn’t really hit major growth spurts until his first heat had hit, after which he had steadily shot up like a weed.

“Dean.” Bobby greeted him, and before Dean could say anything else, Bobby had engulfed him into a hug. It felt a bit awkward. Before, Bobby hadn’t much hugged him, only patted him on the shoulder or the head once in a while. But Dean could understand why he would now. Not only had they not seen each other for a long time, but Dean was also fairly sure Bobby had thought he might never see him again after not hearing from him in so long. So Dean allowed it. Besides, Bobby’s Alpha smell that had always reminded him of changing oil and vegetable stew was familiar and comforting to him, much in the same way Benny’s was – it smelt safe, familiar and like _family_. Like home. Maybe that was why that Dean finally felt himself relax a little, felt a bit of the weight he’d been carrying lifted off his back. Despite the fucked up situation with the people who should’ve smelt safe like this to Dean, he had to admit to the allure of familial and familiar scents creating a sense of safety.

“It’s good to see you, boy.” Bobby mumbled, and his voice sounded vaguely hoarse. He smelled of relief and joy, but there was a mix of salt there that Dean quickly realised were likely Bobby’s tears. He pretended not to smell them to spare the man.

“You too, Bobby.” Dean said softly against Bobby’s shoulder, and he didn’t think he could be happier about having come here.

Bobby let him go, and Dean turned to greet the only woman present. “Hey, Ellen. It’s good to see you as well.”

Ellen smiled at him like Bobby, but there was definitely something sad there. Dean saw that she pitied him, but he didn’t like it so he didn’t mention it. “And you, Dean.” And then he’s being hugged again, this time by Ellen. But Dean allowed that too, because Ellen’s woodsy, mild Beta scent was also familiar and comforting to him. But now that he’d been exposed to both of these old smells, he realised that they were slightly different than they had been in the past. Ellen and Bobby had both lost their mates by the time Dean had first met them, and Dean had at times been able to smell little traces of their mates’ scents on them and the sorrow of loss that had mixed with it. Particularly on Ellen, who had lost her mate only a few years before Dean had been introduced to her for the first time. Now, however, those traces were almost entirely gone. That wasn’t so surprising – after all, it was ideal that even with losing your mates, time would eventually heal all the wounds – but what _was_ surprising is that Dean now could smell some traces of the other person’s scent on each of them, mixing naturally together into a newer smell. Indeed, as he pulled back he looked down at Ellen’s neck, visible enough under the collar of her not-entirely-buttoned flannel shirt. She’d used to only have one mating bite on the left side of her neck. Now there were two, a new one accompanying the first one on the right side of her neck.

“I...” Dean began, slightly breathless and at a loss for words. “Congratulations on your mating...?”

Ellen blinked, then chuckled, at that. “Oh, that. I hadn’t even realised that of course you wouldn’t know about that.” '

“How long...?”

“Over seven years now, Dean.” Ellen smiled at him, but again there was that sadness in her eyes and scent as she said that. Bobby seemed to realise that too, as he came to stand at her side and put a hand on her shoulder.

Dean couldn’t say he had seen it coming. He had only figured Bobby and Ellen were good friends and no more, but it certainly didn’t bother him. Honestly, good for them. He was glad they had been able to find some happiness back into their lives even after the passing of their first mates. And as far as he knew, they were both rather alike in temperament and characteristics, and he could see how they would make a good pair. Besides, what better than being mated to someone who was also your good friend? Dean supposed he also had dreamt about something like that once upon a time.

He cleared his throat and attempted to do the same with his head in the meantime. “Well, it’s good that it’s been a while then. I wouldn’t want to intrude on your honeymoon or something.” He smirked, trying to be a bit cheeky.

“You wouldn’t be intruding even if hadn’t been so long.” Ellen said to that, this time with a sterner tone. “I said it to Bobby when you called and I’ll say it to you as well: you will always have a home here. And you clearly need one now.”

Dean ducked his head to hide his smile and light blush taking over his face. “...Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it, boy. Now, let’s see what we can do about your stuff.”

Dean gestured to the car at that. “There’s not much there, to be honest. Just clothes and most of Sammy’s stuff.”

Bobby raised an eyebrow at that. “You didn’t get anything more?”

Dean shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, but the truth was that that was a somewhat pressing matter. If he hadn’t had Bobby’s – and now apparently Ellen’s as well – home to come to, he would’ve been completely screwed. He had no place to call his own, almost no money to his name and all he owned could be fitted into a car. He didn’t even have a job, though he’d worked waiting tables at a diner back in Lawrence and was going to attempt to find a new place to work as soon as he could. He did have some savings from pawning his old ring, but that money was to be saved for rainy days and vital things like Sam’s still upcoming shots. “Well, you know, there was a prenup. So basically all I have is the stuff that was mine to begin with or given to me as a gift, and what wouldn’t be needed if Sammy wasn’t there.”

“Speaking of which.” Bobby gestured to the backseat, where Sam was beginning to wake up, Dean now noticed. “Why don’t you introduce us?”

“Oh, right.” Dean went to open the door and take Sammy out. He was still a bit bleary-eyed from sleep, but reached out to him with his tiny arms in any case as Dean picked him up. His little fingers clutched Dean’s shirt as Dean held him in his arms and Sam scented him again, pressing against him. Dean then realised that while this was a familiar place to him, to Sam it was entirely new and foreign and full of new, strange smells that perhaps confused and even intimidated him a little. After months of staying with Benny, the scent of him and his apartment were what Sam would associate with warmth and safety, not some damp, cool air and old cars in South Dakota. The fact that they were with two adults that Sam didn’t yet know probably didn’t help the feeling of foreignness and he was likely trying to seek comfort in the scent of the one he did know here. It couldn’t be helped for now though, and Dean hoped that with time Sam also would come to think of this place and these people as safe and familiar sources of comfort.

“Ellen, Bobby, this is my son Sam.” He said. “Sammy, these are Ellen and Bobby.” Sam appeared to understand at least a little of what was going on, for he took his head away from Dean’s neck just a bit to look over at these new, unfamiliar people. But soon after, he seemed to deem them far too strange to look at and hid into his father once more. Dean smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. He’s not that used to being around new people...”

Ellen smiled at him and shook away his apologies with a flick of a wrist. “He’ll have plenty of time to get used to us while you’re here. Don’t worry about it dear.” She walked over to the trunk of the car. “Now, let’s get this show on the road so we can all get on with the day.”

Dean got the message and went to open the trunk with his car keys. With that, Bobby and Ellen began to take stuff from the car to the house. Dean, not knowing quite what he could or should do with the baby in his arms decided to take the portable carseat out so Sam could sit in it somewhere in the house until they were able to assemble his crib. He walked up the porch steps to Bobby’s – and now also Ellen’s – house holding the handle of the carseat in both hands. His heartbeat grew stronger and louder with every step he took. He was curious to see what the house would look like after all these years, but also a little terrified. Had it changed so much that Dean would no longer recognise it? Would it feel like a completely different place after all this time? Would he even feel at home here anymore?

At the door, he had to pause for a minute as all these thoughts weighed upon him, but in the end he knew he was just wasting time here and he should just go in already so he could start helping Ellen and Bobby out. So, with that in mind, he stepped over the threshold of the open front door and into the house he had known in his childhood.

The front room wasn’t much different – the same green walls, the same green-and-white tiles on the floor, but the old single coatrack he remembered had been replaced by a row of hooks, nearly all of which were regardless holding up a jacket or a sweater of some sort. Beyond, he could see the kitchen and he walked into it with shaky legs. It was cleaner and neater than before, the stove and the dining table were new and there were some new pots and pans hanging. The kitchen smelled of spices and disinfectant, as well as the leftover scents of the people living in the house. There were also less liquor bottles around than he was used to seeing upon arriving at Bobby’s house. The bottles had usually decreased with every week of the summer Dean had spent there, but there had always been at least one somewhere. Now he saw and smelled none. The new table was also clear of all the books Dean was used to picturing covering all the available surfaces in Bobby’s house, as it now likely served more than one person who tended to read while he ate.

Dean stepped over to the living room. The same impression from the previous two rooms followed him there; cleaner, tidier. There were still a lot of books there as Dean remembered, and their smell still hung about the room, but they were now in more bookshelves than he remembered there being, rather than all over the place. The wallpaper had been renewed somewhere over the years and here, too, there were fewer liquor bottles hanging around. With a quick glance Dean could also see that new photographs had been placed here and there, as well as some neater touches such as a decorative glass bowl on the coffee table and new curtains that spoke of a woman’s touch. In here especially the scents of Ellen and Bobby mingled together into a homey, familial smell. It was clear that they were very good for each other and likely happy together.

All in all, this house still felt like a home to Dean; perhaps even more so now that it looked and smelt like a place that contained happy people that made a joyful family. It looked and smelt like a place that was safe for him and Sam both to be in.

Ellen and Bobby came down the stairs just as Dean was putting Sam’s carseat down on the couch (the carseat was clean so Dean assumed it would be all right). He smiled at them. “Good job on the place, Ellen.”

“It wasn’t all me, Dean, but thank you.” Ellen smiled back at him. “We’ve also cleaned out the guest room where you used to stay; you can decorate it the way you want to once you get more settled. We thought that the second, smaller guest room could become Sam’s nursery. We’ve put up new wallpaper there and it’s ready for the things you’ve brought for Sam.”

Dean felt a sudden huge wave of gratitude go over himself at all the effort Bobby and Ellen had put to making him and Sam’s stay with them as comfortable and easy as possible, to making sure they would feel as at home as was possible. It made him feel less like an intruder and more like a welcome guest in their home. But it also raised a question in his mind. Bobby only had those two guest rooms, plus the attic. Ellen was obviously in the main bedroom with Bobby, but if Ellen was here, then... “What about Jo? Isn’t she here as well?”

Joanna Beth, or Jo as she was known to most people, was Ellen’s daughter and had been one of Dean’s most frequent playmates during his stays with Bobby. Dean remembered her as a golden-haired, seemingly little, but incredibly tough and mouthy young girl. She had been a couple of years Dean’s junior so by the time Dean had left Bobby’s house for the last time, she had still been unpresented and now Dean had to wonder what kind of a young woman she had grown up into. All those years ago, when Dean himself had still had all the belief that he’d one day turn out to be an Alpha, he had thought that having a mate like Jo wouldn’t be too bad, no matter what she would present as. He had liked that she had always spoken her mind and never let anyone underestimate her. She had run, played and climbed trees with boys without any trouble (except from her mother at the end of the day when she’d sometimes come home in dirty and ripped clothes) and Dean had liked that about her, had admired her spirit. It felt strange to think about it now after all this time, especially when Dean hadn’t seen her for almost a decade and had no idea what she even looked like nowadays. He had thought about her sometimes over the years, of course, but during his stay at _that house_ , he had generally tried to avoid thinking about anything happy at all, because it had made his situation always seem so much bleaker in contrast.

Ellen smiled a bit wider at his inquiry. “Jo had been looking for an excuse to move out for a while by the time you called, so she’s on her own now. I expect she’ll stop by to come and see you a bit later in the day. It’s her day off work today and she did want to come right away, but I told her she should let you get settled and rested at first. Speaking of which...” She nudged her head towards the stairs. “I think you should go get some sleep. Me ‘n Bobby can take care of your things and start assembling Sam’s nursery. I’ve already put fresh sheets on your bed.”

“N-no, I couldn’t possibly...”

“You can and you will, boy.” Bobby stepped in to the conversation. “You drove all night to get here, didn’t you? You need to sleep so you’ll regain your strength. You don’t have that many things anyway, so it’s not like it’ll be that much more work for us.”

“But...” Dean glanced over at the couch, where Sam was now wiggling his legs in his carseat. Even though he would trust both Bobby and Ellen with his life, he wasn’t sure he trusted them with his son just yet after all this time. Dean had always tried to look after Sam as independently as possible so far. As a result, he had rarely been very far from Sam at all, and in a way leaving Sam alone with Benny for a minute hadn’t been too nerve-wrecking because Benny had been there already when he’d been pregnant and then in the delivery room. He’d even been the second person to hold Sammy, not counting the nurses helping with the birth, right after Dean himself. Besides, Dean didn’t want to trouble Ellen and Bobby even further. Sam was generally a quite baby around those he knew, but Dean wasn’t sure how he’d act around strangers. He’d seemed so nervous earlier, what if he became fussy once Dean left?

“I think we can handle one baby, Dean. It’s not our first rodeo with one.” Ellen said, stepping over to Sam, who eyed her curiously but didn’t seem as nervous as before at least.

“Besides, what if you get sick because of the stress and the lack of sleep? Then you’ll be unable to take care of the pup for much longer than if you take a nap for a few hours now.” Bobby reasoned.

And right then, as if the entire universe was working against him, Dean yawned. He had to admit, it had been a while since he’d stayed up all night, since even with a newborn he’d generally got enough sleep, and he had been very worked up under the past several weeks, when freedom and safety had been so close but yet so far away. And the couple in front of him made very sound arguments. Getting sick was the last thing Dean needed right now, when he needed to start working and getting used to his new life here in Sioux Falls.

“All right, fine. But wake me up in a few hours, or if something, anything, goes wrong. And I should...I should feed him first.”

Ellen raised an eyebrow at him. “You still nurse?”

Dean felt the cold chill of dread go down his spine. Had he done wrong? He had only done what the baby books had told him to do and they were all Dean could really rely on for information on things like that. He hadn’t been around any babies before Sammy and he didn’t have a mother or birthgiver that he could’ve asked these things from. “Is...is that bad?”

Ellen seemed to be able to tell she had alarmed him and approached Dean to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. The gentle touch felt somewhat strange to Dean. Over the past years, most touches he’d received had been painful. Benny had been gentle to him, but had seemed to understand Dean didn’t much like being touched after all that had happened and had allowed Dean his space. The touch and the hugs before now felt nice in one way, but a little uncomfortable in another. It was a new and strange feeling, like a distant memory. Dean knew he had liked touch once upon a time, but now just couldn’t enjoy it from someone that wasn’t Sam quite fully. Still, he tried not to show his discomfort because it wasn’t like Ellen meant any harm.

“It’s not bad, dear, and I think the trend nowadays is to breastfeed a bit longer than we did back when you were Sam’s age. I was just surprised. But go ahead and feed him now, we’ll start heaving in more of your things and then you can get some rest.”

“I’m planning on weaning him off the milk now that we’re here.” Dean felt the need to say anyway as he approached Sam, took him off the carseat (Sam’s arms were eagerly outstretching towards him as usual) and sat down on the couch to feed him.

“You don’t have to explain your parenting choices to me, hon. All anyone can do is what they think is best and right for them, because all parents and all children are different. So go on and feed him.” Ellen said and with that she and Bobby headed out to Dean’s car again to get more things.

Meanwhile, Sam seemed to understand what was about to happen and was getting a bit fussy and restless, clearly anxious about the meal that is just in his reach. So Dean murmured to him: “All right, all right, Sammy, I'll give you food.” and began to unbutton his undershirt so Sam could feed from his nipple. He turned a bit sideways so Bobby and Ellen wouldn’t get such a clear view of his swollen nipples and soft chest tissue over his pecks. Although Dean had actually found himself liking the bonding experience and closeness breastfeeding Sammy gave him – besides the fact that it was just the most convenient way to save money with baby formula – he didn’t much like it when people saw him doing it. The grown chest tissue looked unnatural to him and he himself didn’t even like looking at it when he was in the nude. It didn’t seem like it belonged on his body and just made him look like someone he wasn’t. The last thing Dean had imagined himself doing as a young boy was breastfeeding another life form, so even though he liked it when it was happening, he didn’t as much care for the visible physical reminders of it. Thankfully they were at least relatively easy to hide with clothes.

Bobby and Ellen passed him with some more of his things, but thankfully seemed intent on giving him and Sam their privacy and avoided looking at him as he fed his son.

Sam was soon done, and let go of the nipple. Dean smiled down at him and murmured: “Good boy, Sammy.” before lifting him on his shoulder to burp him. After he was done with that, he put Sam down again to his carseat and strapped him in so he wouldn’t wiggle his way out and fall on the floor. Then he headed upstairs. Ellen met him halfway up the stairs.

“I trust you still remember where your old room is?”

Dean smirked down at her. “Don’t worry, I’ll find my way around.”

Ellen nodded. “Sleep well, dear. I’ll go and check on that pup of yours. If he’s just eaten, he might need a diaper change soon.”

Dean let out a snort with a shake of his head as he headed up the rest of the stairs, then over the corridor on the second floor at which end he turned right. Soon he passed the lovely windowseat with four window screens where he turned right again to the rooms on the second floor. The first door on the left was to what would now be Sam’s nursery; the smallest bedroom of the house. The door was slightly ajar and Dean could just about see Bobby inside, putting together Sam’s crib. He also vaguely saw light green wallpaper, but decided to come and see more later when it would all be finished. To the left was the bathroom and Dean thought it might be a good idea to go there before hitting the hay, so he did. The bathroom was a nice size, with a tub aside from the toilet and the sink. The tiles had been renewed since his last visit and it smelt cleaner than he remembered.

His reflection looked indescribably tired in the mirror, with a paling tone to his skin and dark bags underneath his eyes, and he guessed that was why Bobby and Ellen had all but commanded him to go sleep for a while. He knew he had lost some weight as well, having not been able to eat too well under all the stress unless Benny had made him. It even looked as if his eyes had lost some of their sparkle, though Dean wasn’t sure anymore if he’d even had that for many years now. All in all, he looked like someone who had already seen far too much in their life, and Dean was still only 23.

He shook off these thoughts and headed out of the bathroom. Better to get working on losing that zombie-like look right away with some z’s. At the end of this corridor, before the left turn that led to the largest room upstairs that served as the master bedroom, was the larger guest room that Dean had once frequented. His heart rate sped up as he neared it, half eager, half nervous to see what it looked like now.

He opened the door and a relieved smile took over his face. Just like Ellen said, it hadn’t been changed all that much. The wallpaper was here was the same old light blue it had been when Dean had last stayed here, and Dean smiled at the thought of Jo refusing to change it just because she was a girl when she had undoubtedly lived in this room. A freshly-made bed with white sheets sat in the corner opposite to Dean and as he stepped to the room, on his left against a wall was a chest of drawers for his clothes. Other than that, the room was bare, but like Ellen had said, Dean could make it his own with a little time and effort. There was even hardly any smell in the room right now, just one of cleaning supplies and fresh sheets.

But for now, Dean simply took off his shoes and got on the bed. He didn’t dare take off his jeans or get under the covers. He didn’t want to sleep too long after all, as there was still much to be done today. Plus, there was still a type of anxiety squirming underneath his skin that told him that it was better to stay clothed. Just in case. After all, though Bobby’s house was the safest place he knew, he’d never be truly safe anywhere, and being able to get away quickly could be what would save his life...

That was his last thought before he drifted off into a restless, but deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Birthgiver" or "carrier" are umbrella terms for the parent who, well, carries the baby in this 'verse. People can then specify further by saying "My Omega Dad" or "My Beta Mom" etc. if they so wish. An older term for this, which has since then become regarded as derogatory, is "breeder", which is sometimes used as an insult. "Sire" is the umbrella term for the parent who doesn't carry the baby.
> 
> My tumblr is also nihonlove, if you wanna come say hello~.


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for symptoms of PTSD and non-professional behaviour at a job interview.

Dean was woken up rather unpleasantly when someone jumped on top of him, knocking the air out of him quite mercilessly as their weight settled down around his middle. The first instinct was to defend himself and he reached for the knife he kept under his pillow just in case, but couldn’t find it. This caused his nerves to prickle even further, panic spreading so cold it was burning underneath his skin, his breathing growing heavier as he grabbed the arm of his attacker, trying to keep them away. Had they got to Sam yet? Would Dean ever see him again?

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy there, tiger. I’m not gonna hurt you.” Dean gasped in air, recognising that tone of speech, and familiar type of voice though it was a couple of notches deeper than when he’d last heard it. He finally opened his eyes, meeting chocolate brown ones on a small, thin face decorated by a somewhat crooked nose. That face and that nose, as well as those eyes were familiar to Dean, just like the voice had been, though the person they all belonged to was no longer 12, had her hair neatly curled in waves rather than tied in pigtails, and had grown her bangs off.

“Jo?” Dean mumbled breathlessly as his childhood friend slowly got off him and sat on the edge of the bed instead. The room was full of light and Dean was a little surprised to have slept through it for what seemed to be a few hours at least.

“Who else?” Jo said, grinning in that way she always had when she’d been teasing, and Dean’s heart ached at the sight of it on that grown-up face. Jo was indeed a woman now, just as Dean was a man, and he had missed all the phases of her growing into that while he’d been away. Jo had grown up so beautiful, her hair more golden than ever and her body slender but strong. Dean finally realised to gently scent the air, but Jo smelled the same as he remembered; like freshly cut grass mixed with a tinge of an old wooden barrel. It didn’t seem stronger than before either. Beta, then, like her mother.

Dean was brought out of these thoughts as Jo punched him on the shoulder.

“Ow!”

“ _That’s_ for disappearing for nearly ten years, jackass! Do you have any idea what it was like for me?! One day you’re here and everything is normal, the next you tell me you’re about to go away again - which I expect - but then I never hear from you again! You don’t return the following summer like you were supposed to! Would it have killed you to pick up the phone or write a letter once in a while?!”

Dean cast his eyes down with shame. It wasn’t as if he had wanted to cut ties after that one summer - he had missed everyone in Sioux Falls something awful and had often wondered what was going on with them, especially during the first few years after he’d been taken away from there for the last time. But although he had had Bobby’s number on the card he had given him, and he probably could’ve got the address and the phone number of The Roadhouse - the inn and tavern Ellen owned - from a library or something, he hadn’t even tried to. He had thought about it a few times, yes, almost even gone through it once or twice, but every time he had considered it, his father’s disappointed, borderline furious tone had rung between his ears, talking again about how “inappropriate” it had been for Dean to be alone with Bobby and how Dean should just forget about Sioux Falls because he wasn’t going back there, not ever. It had felt so shameful, so awful to go against his father’s wishes, to disappoint him even further than he had by not being the Alpha son John had wanted, that Dean had always ended up backing out. That type of obedience had not been healthy or good for him, he now knew, but it had taken far more than the pain of loss and longing for the people he had lost that Dean had finally come to realise that.

Jo seemed to notice Dean’s distress, however, and shifted closer to him on the bed so that their legs were touching. Her scent turned citrus-like with worry. “Hey, don’t make that face, okay? I mean, I’m still pissed at you, but I’m also glad that you’re here now. And I can’t believe you have a pup! Our Dean is all grown-up and a parent!”

Dean gave her a little smile at that. Sam really was the best thing Dean had ever done with his life. But he wasn’t really sure what to add to that. He didn’t know how much of his situation Jo knew and he didn’t feel like talking about it anyhow. He hadn’t even told Bobby or Ellen much of the details - just the basics - but they had likely looked into the newsfeeds in the Lawrence area or had simply put two and two together to make four when it came to Dean’s situation. About Jo, he couldn’t be sure. It was easy to believe Ellen would try and shield her daughter from the darker aspects of Dean’s arrival, both to protect her and to give Dean some privacy, but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t have found out on her own.

To avoid going anywhere closer all that, Dean instead asked: “What time is it?”

“Half past eleven. I came up to wake you up for lunch. Come on!” Jo called, grabbing Dean’s hand and helping him up on his feet. They walked through the second floor and then down the stairs, Dean slightly disoriented from getting up so fast and from the surprise that he had slept for so long. He generally didn’t get much more than four hours a night, and now he had slept for over five, and during the day no less!

They reached the kitchen from where the delicious smell of butter stirring and cooking was coming from. Ellen was at the stove, cooking what looked like grilled cheese sandwiches on the frying pan, and a pot of vegetable soup to go with them. Dean felt his mouth water and just then realised how hungry he actually was. He had missed breakfast after all.

Bobby was setting the table, where Sam was sitting, in his high chair that had apparently been assembled while Dean had been asleep. He suddenly felt disappointed that he hadn’t thought to check in on the nursery before coming downstairs, but he supposed there would be time for that later too.

“Da!” Sammy called out for him from where he was sitting. The pup wasn’t giving out full words quite yet, but many of his sounds had become regularised and associated with one thing or another. ‘Da’ was what he used for Dean, and Dean couldn’t wait to hear it eventually turn into a full ‘Daddy’.

“Hey buddy.” Dean smiled down at his son, reaching to gently brush the soft thin hair he had, scenting Sam’s pure, content baby smell in the meantime, before turning to talk to Bobby. “Was he any trouble? Did he make a fuss?” He knew Ellen had experience with babies too, having a child of her own, but Bobby hadn’t looked after Dean until Dean had been six and already relatively self-sufficient. Babies were a whole different ballpark compared to that, needing constant care, supervision and attention just so that they wouldn’t hurt themselves. Dean himself hadn’t truly quite realised that until he’d had one on hand that depended on him for every little thing. Sam might be an easy baby, but he was still a baby, and because of that quite helpless on his own.

“He is a little angel, your boy.” Ellen answered from the stove. “Barely makes a peep. Joanna Beth would barely shut up when she was at that age.”

“Hey!” Jo yelled, agitated.

Ellen ignored her and went on. “He is still shy around us, though. Doesn’t really like to be touched. But it’s to be expected, and he’ll get there with time.”

Dean felt immediately felt guilty. He knew he shouldn’t have left Sam alone so quickly after arriving. He caressed the side of Sam’s face gently with his knuckles, as if to apologise. Still, he did feel much improved after his nap.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” He asked Ellen.

She smiled at him. “Not for now, lunch is just about done. You should probably feed your pup now, though, so you can focus on eating later.”

“There are some purees in the fridge.” Bobby then put in, gesturing to it, which was behind him by the wall. “You said you slowly want to get him used to solid food. Ellen and the baby manuals said that purees are a good place to start, among with cereal, but we can experiment with those later.”

Dean felt that warm feeling of gratitude in his chest again. “Bobby, thank you, I...” but then Dean decided there had already been far too many chick-flick moments today. “But seriously, _you_ read baby manuals?”

Jo giggled behind her hand, though fell silent at the look her mother gave her, and Bobby blushed lightly and snorted, his scent gaining the burnt smell of embarrassment. “I knew there was going to be a pup in the house that I would need to look after. I wanted to be prepared!”

Dean just smiled over at the older man, hoping he was saying enough about what he was feeling with that, even with his dulled scent, before going over to the fridge to get Sam a small jar of puree. There was a whole selection of them there, both vegetable and fruit ones, but Dean decided to go with an apple one since it was Sam’s first time and he figured sweet, fruity ones would be easier to get Sam to eat compared to the vegetable ones. He followed that with going to find a spoon from where they had used to be, and thankfully at least that piece of organising had been kept.

Back at the table he opened the jar and took some of the puree on the tip of the spoon. “Look Sammy, it’s yummy.” He said, and once Sam’s eyes were on him, he put the tip of the spoon in his mouth and ate the puree. It truly wasn’t half-bad tasting. He however exaggerated the noises of pleasure at the taste to give Sam the idea that eating it would be a good thing, going all the way to rubbing his stomach and licking his lips to emphasise his point. He then took some more puree on the spoon and presented it to Sam. “Would Sammy like some?”

Sam smiled, making happy noises and waving his arms, his smell all sunshine and dandelions, then opened his mouth, all of which Dean took as a yes. He let Sam eat and try the puree out before giving him another spoonful. But Sammy was a good baby here too, and finished his first piece of more solid food fast and without any fuss. Dean still took him off the chair and into his arms and offered him his nipple too, just in case he was still hungry. It seemed he was, because he began to suckle on the nipple. He did eat less than normally though.

It wasn’t until Dean was burping Sam on his shoulder that he noticed Jo, Ellen and Bobby were all watching him. He nearly yelped at their stares. He had completely forgotten they were there while he was taking care of Sam, having fallen into the familiar lull of routine that gave him.

“What?” Dean huffed, trying to cover his embarrassment. So he was soft on his son, so what? Wasn’t that how parents were supposed to be?

“Nothing!” Jo shrieked softly, her eyes like melted chocolate and her scent all soft and sweet as well, with peace and joy. “It’s just...you’re actually really good at that. Taking care of a baby, I mean.”

“Well, I’ve had him for a while already. I’ve learnt a thing or two. Kinda had to, if I was gonna survive this whole experience.” Dean said as he put Sam back into his chair. Ellen was bringing the soup over now too, so Dean figured it was his time to eat now that Sam was full.

“Jo is quite right though Dean. You don’t have to put yourself down. You and Sam seem very connected and you appear to have quite the parenting instincts.” Ellen said, as she began to put the soup into their bowls.

“I don’t know about that, Ellen. But you know, me ‘n Sam basically have only each other so I do try my best to be a good parent to him.”

“Right, because Sam’s sire isn’t in the picture, right?” Jo said, biting into her sandwich.

Dean dropped the spoon he had just picked up with a clang. A tense silence had overtaken the kitchen. No one dared to move a muscle; not Ellen still holding the soup, not Bobby holding up a plate for her, and not Jo who had her mouth full of sandwich. The electric smell of tension was almost like thick cloud that hung all around and over them, like a storm at whose eye they were right in.

Jo seemed to realise she had said something she shouldn’t have and shifted her eyes around from her mother to Bobby to Dean, but clearly didn’t know what to say to break the uncomfortable silence.

Dean eventually found his voice and put her out of her misery. After all, it wasn’t really her fault she didn’t know what had really happened between Dean and Sam’s sire. “No, Jo, he’s not in the picture. But trust me, it’s better that he isn’t. I’d be more than happy if he never came anywhere near Sam.”

“So is he like...” Jo began.

“Joanna Beth.” Ellen interrupted her rather sharply, and Jo seemed to get the message to not say more. Ellen then continued to pass out the soup around and once everyone got to eating, the conversation and the mood in the kitchen both became much lighter, the cloud of tension slowly fading. They now had the opportunity to actually catch up on stuff. Dean was happy to learn what had been going on in the other three’s lives the past years and simply tried to keep the conversation away from his own experiences. It was fairly easy, likely because the others had the same thought in mind to avoid making him uncomfortable again.

Dean learnt that Ellen still ran The Roadhouse, but had given over some of the responsibility to Ash, a man she and Jo called a mathematical and technical genius, who now took care of their booking and taxes. Jo had a job at The Roadhouse too, but was also taking classes at the community college, trying to decide whether she wanted to pursue more academics, take over the family business or something completely different. Dean felt a slight stab of envy when she was talking about her classes in literature, psychology, art and classifications, knowing that he would likely never get to experience something like that. He hadn’t even been allowed to finish high school, having got married during the summer just before his senior year and his ex having deemed him “educated enough for an Omega” at that point. And now, when he was still technically young enough to go to college, well...he wouldn’t be able to afford it, not to mention he had Sam now, and Dean was determined to do right by him. Comparing anything to Sam, all seemed insignificant. No matter what, Dean was going to damn well be the best fucking father he could be to his son, so help him God.

Bobby’s work life hadn’t changed much; he still rang the Singer’s Salvage Yard, though obviously the staff had changed over the years. What was mostly different in his life now was that he had a family who he cared about and who cared about him. This led to the story about how he and Ellen had ended up together in the first place. Apparently after Dean had left for the last time, according to Ellen, Bobby had been rather down (which he hotly denied). This had led to Ellen inviting him over to The Roadhouse for drinks more often, then to dinners at her and Jo’s apartment above the place (which had since then been converted into more Inn rooms for overnight guests). Soon enough, Bobby had started returning the favour at his house and before they knew it, they were spending nearly every evening together. They had been friends for a long time, sure, but had never spent that much time together before, especially after they had both got mates and Ellen had become a mother. Soon enough, they realised they liked it better when there was someone to share your evening and your day with, and that they no longer wanted to spend nights away from each other either, which had led to talks about a possible future together. And the rest, as they said, was history. Their scents were all sweet and caramel-like and sappy as they spoke about all of this and it made something in Dean’s chest clench.

Dean was happy for Bobby and Ellen, for all of them. It was wonderful to know that kind of happiness could still be found in the world, even after all that they all had been through. It made him almost wanting to hope something like that for himself too, something better than the past years had given him. For someone whom he actually cared about caring about him in return, accepting him and Sam into their life and heart, just as Dean would in turn do for them.

Almost. Dean was a realist first and foremost, after all.

The discussion eventually came to a point where Bobby said: “Oh, Dean, I almost forgot. I got you a job interview in the city.”

“A job interview? Really?” Dean asked, immediately excited. Sure, he had asked if Bobby could keep a lookout for available jobs that accepted uneducated high school drop-out Omegas, after both Bobby and Ellen had explained that they were willing to take him on, but could only offer part-time work without laying off any of their regular employees, which they couldn’t do purely out of nepotistic reasons (which Dean had completely understood). But he hadn’t expected the man to get him an actual _interview_.

“Yeah. It’s at this coffee shop; I know the owner. She owed me a favour from some years back and I told her if she took you in for an interview, her debt would be paid full. The job won’t be glamorous, but it’ll get you started off.”

“Thanks Bobby. Thanks so much.” Dean grinned. He didn’t care what the job would be like. Anything would do for him at this point. “Anything you can tell me about her so I can be prepared?”

“Her name is Bela Talbot. She’ll be a tough nut for you to deal with, I won’t lie, and she will most likely make you uncomfortable, but if you do get in, she will be fair to you. She’s protective of her own, though she wouldn’t admit it.”

Dean nodded. He could deal with that. He had worked for worse bosses at worse jobs. A coffee shop at least sounded respectable enough, and clean. If he managed to get the job, it should at least beat working at a gas station. He just hoped his experience in waiting at a diner and a good word from Bobby would be good enough for this Bela Talbot for him to get the job.

...

Later that day, when Sam had been put down for his afternoon nap, Dean went out to sit on Bobby’s porch. By his side sat Sam’s baby monitor, in case the pup needed him and his feet were resting on the steps leading up to the porch, as Dean simply looked at the trees and their leaves, painted red, brown and gold by the autumn and starting to fall, and enjoyed the wet, earthy, cool smell of the autumn air. He watched the descent of the leaves from their branches, carried off by the wind to the unknown sometimes, others going straight to the ground. Just like those leaved in the wind, Dean knew he could prolong this kind of peace all he tried for as long as he could, but eventually either the wind would die out or the leaves would be hit by something until they would all be on the ground.

He heard the door open behind himself, and scented Bobby in the air, so he didn’t bother turning around. Bobby came to stand next to Dean’s shoulder, presenting him with a beer over it. “Want one?”

Dean considered it a moment, but resisted the temptation. “Sorry, can’t. I still need to keep pure, for Sam, you know.” He was referring to breastfeeding of course, but also to the fact that he feared that if he drank anything even remotely alcoholic, he wouldn’t be able to stop. The urge to just drown everything into the bottle and let it help him forget was incredibly strong, but Sam didn’t deserve that. Dean knew more than well that if he succumbed to alcohol, he wouldn’t be able to look after Sam, and that was something Dean could never allow himself, because that was the one thing he would never be able to forgive himself for.

Bobby shrugged, as he sat down next to Dean. “Suit yourself.” He instead opened his own beer, taking a sip.

Dean could tell, however, that Bobby hadn’t come out here just for a light talk and a beer. He could both smell and otherwise sense Bobby’s tension. He knew they would’ve had to have this conversation sooner or later after he’d arrived, and that he wouldn’t have been able to put it off forever, but the thought of it still wasn’t any more comfortable.

“Dean...” Bobby began.

“Do we have to do this now Bobby?” Dean asked, sighing.

“I think we do, boy. I’m afraid if we put it off, we’ll never get around to doing it.”

Dean averted his eyes. Bobby had a point there, but it didn’t really make the situation easier. “I just...I just don’t want to talk about it, or even think about it. I just want to forget, and move and live on with Sammy.”

“I want that for you too, Dean, but I also know you. You wouldn’t have called me and asked for help and a place to stay unless you really needed it. And I can tell you’re scared, likely with good reason, if what the papers say is anything to go by.” He took a gulp from his beer. “But I need to know more, Dean.”

Dean desperately wished he could have some of the beer too. That would make this conversations at least somewhat easier to have. Instead, he just swallowed what was in his mouth. “...How much do you know right now, Bobby?”

“Only what I’ve read in the papers. I know what the charges against _that man_ were and what he got for all of it. The most important question right now is: are you and Sam in danger?”

Dean snorted, because the answer to that question seemed so obvious, if Bobby could already tell he was scared. “We’ll always be in danger, as long as He keeps breathing. He is locked up for now, but I’m sure you already know that it won’t be for very long.”

“So it is true then? That they only gave him...”

“One year? Yeah.” Dean snorted bitterly. “My lawyer said I was lucky to even get him that much, that I was lucky we got him locked up at all. There just wasn’t enough evidence, it was said. He had never been arrested or retained for similar things, no one had ever noticed or heard anything - kind of hard to, when we lived so far away from everything and everyone else - so it is what it is.”

“And you have reason to believe after he gets out he will come after you?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he already knew we are here.” Dean confessed sadly. It may cost him his only shelter, but he couldn’t lie to Bobby about this or tell only the partial truth. After all, he knew very well he was putting everyone who came near him in danger and if they wanted him away because of that, Dean wouldn’t blame them. After all, what right did he have to come back to their lives after nearly ten years and mess them up in the meantime, without even telling them about the risks? “I don’t know much, but I do know He is connected and powerful. He is also petty and vengeful. I put him behind bars and took away his son; he won’t let me get away with that. My only hope is that he won’t hurt anyone else.”

“Dean...”

“Bobby, if you want us to leave because of this, we will. I won’t blame you. I’ve already lived in my car once, I can do it again-”

“Shut your piehole, boy.” Bobby interrupted him with a growl, the anger bitter in his scent. But underneath it lie the citrus of worry, and Dean knew by that he wasn’t really angry at Dean so much as at the whole circumstance. “I should pull your ear for even thinking I’d kick you and Sam out, especially now that I know how much you really need to stay here. I just need to know more about the details, so I can know what to prepare for in order to protect my family, _including_ you and Sam.”

“Bobby...” Dean gasped.

“I’m getting the picture now, Dean. You were right to call me and ask for help. But I need to know...is He truly Sam’s father? You mentioned and I also read that you were living with some Alpha before you came here...”

“Benny.” Dean nodded. “I didn’t think you were the type to believe all the rumours you see on papers, Bobby.”

“I’m not, but that’s exactly why I need to know the truth, Dean. And you’re the only one at this moment who can confirm it for me.”

Dean sighed. He was so tired of people mistaking his friendship with Benny for something else. But he could understand where Bobby was coming from. After all, he himself also knew life would be so much easier for him and Sam if Benny was indeed Sam’s biological sire. “Benny’s just my friend, and he’s absolutely not Sam’s father. If he was, half of this mess would go away, because then He wouldn’t have any legal claim over Sam. But I’ve only been with one person over the past six years or so, and it hasn’t been Benny. Besides, Benny’s _married_ , Bobby, like I told you. I’m not gonna go and get with someone who already has a mate.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Dean. I just need to know for sure, so I can get a clearer picture of the circumstances. You know that.”

Dean sighed again, rubbing his temple with his fingers. “I do know, Bobby. I’m just so tired of people always assuming things or thinking that since we’re an Alpha and an Omega, we can’t be friends and simply must have some kind of sexual tension between us. Benny’s a good friend, and I owe him a lot, but that doesn’t mean I have _feelings_ for him.”

“And even if you did, you wouldn’t do anything because there is a third party in the picture.”

“Exactly.” Dean said. “Hey, Bobby...how much about this do Ellen and Jo know?”

“Ellen knows what I knew till now, since we looked into your case together before you came here, and she will learn the rest too. There are no secrets between us. As far I know, Jo only knows that you’re divorced and that you didn’t get much with you because of a prenup, so you needed a place to stay for a while. But I’m fairly certain she understands now that your ex wasn’t a nice man to say the least if you say you don’t want him near Sam. If she didn’t already.”

Dean nodded. He had figured as much. Jo wasn’t by any means dumb, so likely she too would put two and two together sooner or later, if she hadn’t already. He just hoped she would have enough tact not to bring it up with Dean, since this talk with Bobby was pretty much all he wanted to say on the whole matter.

With that thought, Dean was finished with talking about this for now. He stood up slowly, giving Bobby time to stop him from leaving if he still had any important questions to ask at this moment. When he didn’t, Dean left saying: “I’m gonna go check up on Sammy.” and walked back inside the house from the autumn chill.

...

A few days later, Dean drove the Impala to the city to go to the job interview Bobby had got for him at a place called Black Sheep Coffee. He was there ten minutes early, having figured it was better to leave on time in case he got lost. And anyhow, it was better to be too early than too late at a job interview.

Black Sheep Coffee was the last house at the end of one of those blocks of shop space made out of red brick and all built according to the same blueprints that you saw all across the US. The name was signed above the door to the left and the large window to the right of the house, in large silver-coloured letters. Dean rather liked the name actually; the sort of self-depicting humour in it and that made him wish to get this job even more, even if the boss turned out to be as difficult as Bobby had made it sound. He checked his appearance in the window glass, to make sure he still looked as decent and presentable as he had when he’d left, and then stepped inside.

He walked up to the front desk, casting a sideways glance at the pastries – cakes, pies, sweet buns and cookies – behind the glass next to it. The place was decorated with mostly small round tables that included two or three chairs, but there were a couple of booths there too. At the wall behind the front counter was a chalkboard, on it written the different coffees and hot chocolates you could order at this place. Dean didn’t understand a half of what all of the names there meant, and he could only desperately hope the owner would accept “I’ll learn fast” as a selling line.

It was a Saturday, so it was fairly quiet at the café and there was only one barista behind the counter in a green apron – a red-haired Beta girl with a heart-shaped face, likely not that much younger than Dean. Dean could guess that she was probably in college, working here part-time to make ends meet. Just like when Jo had been talking about her classes, Dean felt a bit envious of her.

The barista smiled up at him as he approached. “Good morning. What can I get you?”

“If you could tell a Ms. Bela Talbot that Dean Winchester is here for a job interview, that’d be great.” Dean replied, smirking and trying to appear confident, even if he was nervous.

“Oh, so you’re Dean, huh?” The barista returned his smirk, before offering her hand over the counter. “Charlie Bradbury, part-time barista, part-time computer science major, full time awesome.” Dean took the hand and shook it firmly. “I’ll go tell Ms. Talbot you’re here. Just a moment.”

The barista called Charlie went through the flapping door at the wall behind the counter to fetch her boss, and Dean waited anxiously, moving to stand from one part of his feet to the other to distract himself at least a bit and get rid of the nervous, itching energy pulsing under his skin.

Charlie came back soon enough and pulled up a part of the counter open to the side so that Dean could step through behind it. “Ms. Talbot will see you now. Just walk straight through the kitchen and you’ll find her office. Her name’s by the door so you can’t miss it.”

“Thanks.” Dean said as he prepared to go through the flapping door.

“Good luck! I hope you get the job!” Charlie said to him before he went.

All Dean could do was smile weakly at her and think ‘You and me both.’

Dean stepped to the back of the place and could tell the kitchen was to the right from him because that was where the smell of fresh pastries was coming from. On the left seemed to be the freezer. But those weren’t his concern now so he walked straight ahead as he’d been instructed. Sure enough, after passing a few shelves, he could see the office door, by which was a metal sign that read: _Bela Talbot, Owner_. Dean knocked on the door.

“Come in.” a female voice answered with, to Dean’s surprise, what sounded like a straight-up Queen’s English accent.

But he didn’t let that faze him and opened the door as told. The room behind it was neatly kept, with a few shelves holding some books, binders and folders of probably finances of this place. At one o’clock from him, there was a desk with a computer, and behind the desk an admittedly quite pretty lady was seated. Her hair was dark blond, almost light brown, but no single hair was the same colour as the next. Her eyes were rather wide apart and a very sharp shade of ice blue. The look on her face was stern and calculating, and Dean felt a chill go down his spine as she looked up at him, first staring at his face and then glancing his body up and down a few times.

Dean gulped, as subtly as he could, hoping his scent-blockers masked his nervousness to at least some extent. From her, it was impossible to tell what she was thinking by her scent at least, because it, too, was blocked. Dean could tell her smell was artificial rather than the normal mild Beta scent, knowing the blocked scent well from smelling it every day on himself. But he couldn’t tell if the scent masked an Alpha or an Omega. He didn’t much wonder about the reasons for masking the scent; after all, he had kind of already answered that question for himself. A blocked scent where no one could tell what you were thinking of by it or how you were feeling, could be an advantage, although Alphas often tended to also use their scents to get to the places they wanted, usually by intimidation. Omegas usually didn’t take advantage of their scents the same way, always all too aware of what could happen if they crossed certain lines. Even if they didn’t think they did, some Alpha knothead might not see it quite that way. Dean hated those types of Alphas.

Finally, Bela Talbot spoke, again with the English accent. “You’re taller than I expected you to be.”

Dean bit his tongue, holding a snarky retort back. He really needed this job, and to offend his boss in the interview wouldn’t do.

“Please, have a seat.” She said, gesturing over her desk to the two chairs that were placed in front of her and it. Dean approached, rather nervous still, but held his head up high and his back straight as he sat down.

“Well, Dean,” Dean avoided frowning at her using his first name. “I don’t suppose introductions are needed, so I’ll get straight to the point. Do you have any previous experience about working in a coffee shop?” Bela Talbot queried, her eyes ever sharp, but once in a while again glancing at Dean elsewhere than his eyes.

“Not at a coffee shop, exactly.” Dean began. “But as a teenager I worked at a gas station for nearly two years, and the past few months I’ve waited tables in a diner, so I do know customer work and waitering.”

“Hmm.” Bela Talbot hummed, her tone not much indicating whether she found this agreeable or not. “But you don’t know how to make a mocha latte with cinnamon and caramel, I take it?”

More like he only really knew how to brew and pour a simple cup of coffee. “I’m a fast learner.” Dean said, hoping he sounded confident.

Apparently he hadn’t, because all Bela Talbot did was chuckle, and not in an entirely friendly manner. “That’s what you all say.” She said. Then, she looked straight at Dean. “I run a business, Dean. I need to make a living and I cannot afford slackers on my payroll.”

“I’m not a slacker, I swear. I work very hard at everything I do and I really, really need this job.”

“Why? Why do you wish to work in a coffee shop?”

Dean hesitated, pondering his answer. But he decided it was the best to just be honest. “Because I’m a high school drop-out with no hopes of getting any job that requires any higher form of education and because I have a six-month-old baby who needs me and relies on me and I need the money to be able to provide for him.”

“You won’t make that much here, I’m sure you know.”

“I’m planning on having more jobs part-time, but I need one full time job to manage.”

“And do you believe you can still give your full effort here with all these other jobs and a child to a boot?”

“I have a good reason to. I will be motivated. Try me, and I won’t let you down.”

“Hmm.” Bela Talbot hummed again, then leaned back on her seat. She looked Dean up and down briefly again, bringing a hand to rub her chin as she considered her options. “You’re bigger than I would normally have an Omega worker be, but you _are_ pretty too. Your eyes...” she paused, falling into a deep thought again. Dean was getting more and more uncomfortable with the way this conversation was heading. But before he could think that much more about that, Bela Talbot slapped her hands on her thighs as a gesture to show she had apparently made up her mind. “All right. I will take you on, but for a trial run at first. If you manage to go two weeks without screwing up, I’ll take you as a regular worker.”

Dean couldn’t help the smile that spread on his face. “Thank you. Thank you so much, ma’am.”

“Hold up, I have a few conditions.”

“...All right?”

“First, wear a light green shirt to work. If you don’t own one, buy one. It’ll bring out the colour of your eyes more. Second, ‘stop wearing the damned scent blockers to work.”

Dean frowned. “I can’t do that...ma’am.”

Bela Talbot raised an eyebrow. “And why not? Don’t try to hide what you are, darling, it is quite unbecoming and really won’t improve your chances here.”

‘You’re one to talk.’ Dean thought, but bit back from saying. “I’m not trying to hide.”

“Ah.” Bela Talbot said, and Dean could tell she knew why he wore the blockers. There were generally only two reasons. One was blending in and avoiding attention that was drawn to them by scents. The other... “Divorced?” All Dean could do was nod. “I suppose that makes sense, since you said your kid ‘relies’ on you. Sole provider, I take it?” Dean didn’t answer. “How long have you been divorced?”

Dean averted his eyes, annoyance growing. “I don’t see how that is relevant.”

“Trust me, darling, everything is relevant here. Now tell me, how long?”

Dean sighed, then took a deep breath. He supposed he had to, if he wanted this job. Besides, it wasn’t like it mattered. It was one of the details he didn’t mind revealing that much at least. Better that than something else, like the reason for the divorce. “The divorce isn’t final yet. But we’ve been separated for about eight months now.”

“Well, then.” Bela Talbot began. “Change the blockers into scent enhancers instead. Make your scent more Omega-like instead of masking it the way you’re doing now. Without any smell, you’ll lose approximately half of your charm. Bring out your nature, rather than mask it with the Alpha’s smell.”

Dean bit his teeth together. He didn’t like to be told how he should live. He had picked the scent-masking blockers because after Sam had been born, he hadn’t wanted to smell like a lonely, needy sex-buffet for any willing Alpha. He still didn’t want to smell like that; the last thing he wanted was any extra attention. Besides, with the scent-masking blockers, many people could’ve mistaken him for a Beta father rather than an abandoned Omega (which he wasn’t; only divorced). It had been easier to be out in public smelling mild rather than snaring. But...

“All right. I can do that.” He agreed. ‘For Sam. You’re doing this for Sam.’ He reminded himself, like a mantra, in his head. ‘It won’t be long now. Just a few months and you can get off the blockers entirely and just smell like yourself.’ Dean didn’t like this type of compromise, but for Sam, he was willing to do anything.

“Lovely.” Bela Talbot said, standing up and extending Dean her hand. “You will start on Monday at six o’clock. It’ll be quieter in the mornings so the other workers can show you the ropes; besides, it might be better if you help with organising at first.” Dean could do that. He’d done plenty of that back at the gas station. It may have been a while since he’d worked there, but he’d always been fairly organised. He had always been the one who had to keep things clean, after all, no matter where he’d lived.

He gripped Bela Talbot’s hand and shook it, even though it made him sick. He could tell she was only hiring him as eye-candy for the customers and very little more, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. He could look for a new job in the meantime, but for now he had to take the first one he could get so he could start paying for food and some type of rent at Bobby’s. Dean Winchester wasn’t a freeloader.

He also needed to begin to build up a nest egg for Sam’s college education and maybe a small apartment for the two of them in the future. And Sam would only keep growing and getting bigger. He would buy most of his clothes at flea markets (he would have to look into those as soon as he could), but still. At Sam’s age, children grew like weed, Dean had read.

“I can do that.” He said and began to leave. “Thank you for your time, and for the opportunity.”

Bela Talbot then pointed at his neck, at a very particular spot on his left where his neck met his shoulder, which Dean resented more than anything else in his body. “And wear concealer over that bite. There’s no need to have it visible if you’re not actually mated anymore, is there?”

Dean just nodded, not caring to argue. It might actually be nice, to be able to pretend the old mating bite wasn’t there, that he was just some simple single Omega who wasn’t divorced and had never been bitten in the first place. He didn’t mind hiding the bite, even if he might be deceiving both himself and others by doing so.

He finally stepped out, and only then allowed a shudder run through him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Black Sheep Coffee is a real café in Sioux Falls, but it's obviously not owned by Bela Talbot.


	4. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so, so sorry this is so late. It's been with my beta for some time now and she's been having a rough time lately and hasn't been up for editing much. She sends her apologies too.
> 
> I hope you enjoy regardless. This time we meet a certain someone~.

It turned out Dean did indeed learn fast. On his first day, he had arrived at Black Sheep Coffee early again, and had met Charlie at the parking lot (though the Beta was biking instead of driving). She had taken him to the back room to get changed, and given him an apron and a key to his own locker. Dean had worn a light green button-up on top of a plain black t-shirt as he had been told to do by Bela Talbot, and with the darker green apron on top of all that, he had to admit that the green of his eyes really popped. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about being hired solely for the purpose of being eye-candy, but the important thing was that he had employment, no matter what it was like. Plus, the hours of the coffee shop were decent and so was the pay.

Dean did have to get up at what he considered to be an unholy hour (work started at six with prepping the café, so Dean had to get up at five to be there on time), but he also got off from work at two, so he was able to go rest or spend some time with Sammy for a few hours before going to work for either Bobby (Mondays to Wednesdays) or Ellen (Fridays and Saturdays). Thursdays he only had at the coffee shop, and Sundays he had allowed himself to keep free. From work at least. On Sundays he tended to do chores and cook for the entire household, trying his best to show his gratitude for Bobby and Ellen in other ways since he still wasn’t exactly paying rent, other than by buying groceries every three weeks.

Still, Dean got used to the work at the coffee shop quite quickly, even the early waking. As suggested by Bela Talbot, Dean had begun with working in organising and cleaning and he still did that most mornings before the breakfast rush. Charlie had shown him the ropes on how to take orders and how to make said orders. Some of the more bizarre ones still tended to throw Dean for the loop, but Charlie assured him that no one learnt them during their first week and helped him with them until he got them right. Thankfully, during Dean’s first week most people ordered the seasonal pumpkin latte, which was relatively simple to make, since the café was apparently famous for it. By his second week he started to be more secure in even the more complicated drinks and was able to breathe a little easier.

Dean had also quickly adjusted to his other jobs. Fixing cars for Bobby was something Dean had learnt very early from the man himself and had continued to do through his life, no matter what else had been going on in it. It had been one of his few escapes many times over the course of the years. Dean enjoyed it for the feeling of competence it gave him; like he if he could make the cars he handled function again, maybe at least something would go right with the rest of his life too and he could actually fix something in it. Waiting tables at The Roadhouse also wasn’t much different from his old job at the diner; the only difference really was that he was allowed to serve much stronger alcohol and as a result, the customers were generally more drunk. That caused them to occasionally blurt out things that Dean wasn’t entirely happy about or comfortable with, but usually resulted in them being thrown out anyway so he tried not to make a big deal out of it.

Right after Dean had learnt what his work schedule would be like, he, Bobby and Ellen had sat down together and made a schedule to make sure that someone would always be at the house to take care of Sam. It hadn’t been that difficult, considering that Ellen had cut back on her hours at The Roadhouse anyway the past few years and that Bobby basically worked from his home and could just take Sam’s crib to his office if needed. Sam was also slowly getting more comfortable being around the two of them too.

Other than serving customers and organising the backrooms, Dean’s duties at the coffee shop mostly included clearing the tables and making sure the front desk was always stocked with baked goods. His job required a lot of standing up and walking around, but Dean had expected that, as that had also been the case with his job at the gas station and as a waiter in a diner. Thankfully it hadn’t been too long since his last standing job so Dean mostly avoided the part where his feet and back would ache for the first two weeks before they got used to the pace.

Dean found he rather liked his job at the café. His coworkers seemed like decent people, especially Charlie, whom Dean worked with the most. As he had guessed, Charlie was indeed in college, studying computer science, and took mostly afternoon classes so she worked the morning shift with Dean. Another was a guy named Tommy Collins, who was,as Dean understood, an Alpha equivalent to Dean, hired in order to lure Omegas to the café. He had stared at Dean a bit too long for Dean to really be comfortable around him, but at least Tommy wasn’t a total ass. And honestly Dean didn’t have to see him very often or very long anyway as Tommy, unlike Charlie, had morning classes and took a later shift. Most of the customers were all right too, though even there Dean could tell that a few of them stared a bit too much at him when his back was turned. But some tipped very well and gave Dean that extra boost to put to his savings for Sam’s future.

One of the best tippers was a man that came in every weekday morning. Dean had been serving him on his very first day at his new job, because Charlie had pointed him out as someone whose orders wouldn’t be too complex. The man had been, and would continue to be, one of the earliest customers of the day, always arriving just before the morning breakfast rush. On that first day, he had come in wearing a tan trenchcoat, and underneath that a dark suit and a tie, all of which seemed to almost swallow him whole. He had given Dean a bit of a raised eyebrow, likely because he was clearly a regular and hadn’t seen Dean before, but hadn’t mentioned verbally. He’d just walked over to the counter.

“Good morning, what can I get for you?” Dean asked, trying his best to sound customer-friendly.

“Hello...” the man had begun in a deep, whiskey-rough voice that had somewhat shocked Dean. But with the intense eyes and dark hair the guy had, the voice also rather worked for him. Even if his slumped shoulders and layers of clothes made him seem a bit too small to be carrying such a voice inside. The man had glanced at Dean’s nametag. “Dean. I’d like a large coffee with three sugars to go, please.”

Dean had smiled at him, grateful that Charlie had been right and the guy’s order was as simple as they came. “You got it. One second.”

He had taken one of the large to-go cups, filled it from the pot and added three sugars before placing the cap on top of it. “Here you go.” He had said as he’d handed the coffee over.

The other man had placed some money on the counter with a few, slow movements that had made him seem tired and somewhat out of it. The dark bags underneath his eyes hadn’t helped that impression. “Thank you. Keep the change.” And without further ado, he had headed out as Dean had begun to collect and count the money. Dean had soon realised that there was far too much, even with a tip. If he had been meant to count the rest of the money that wasn’t the price of the coffee itself, the tip would be 200%.

“Hey, Charlie.” He had said over to his senior co-worker. “The customer you pointed out to me just tipped me 200% for a simple coffee to go.”

Charlie had smiled over at him where she had been stocking the shelves. “Mr. Dark, tall and handsome; blue eyes, wore a trenchcoat?”

Well, he’d had dark hair and blue eyes, but he hadn’t been _that_ tall. To be honest he had probably been shorter than Dean himself. Handsome though, Dean hadn’t even had time to think about that and now that he tried to remember the man’s exact face or scent, he came up with nothing.

“Yeah, I guess that’s him. He a regular?”

“Comes here every weekday morning, always orders the same thing and tips really well. You’re lucky you’ve got morning shift in that sense; you’ll get really good tips from him, I promise.”

And so Dean did. The dark-haired man came in every day, as promised, always ordered the same thing and always tipped 200%. For a simple coffee. He was always wearing that tan trenchcoat and a tie, and, based on that and his tips, he was likely a respectable person, despite the way his dark hair was always wind-tousled. Dean always made sure to smile at him, even when he was tired, and not just because he thought it would give him a nice tip. The other man always eemed so weary and tired with the world, with the bags underneath his hooded but still incredibly blue eyes and the almost sad frown he always seemed to wear on his face. Dean always hoped he could make the man’s day a little bit better with a smile and a decent cup of coffee. Perhaps he did, because the man always smiled back as well, just a little, and although Dean didn’t even know his name, he found himself always looking forward to seeing him every morning. And it wasn’t just because the man was easy on the eyes or because he tipped well.

No, it was more because Dean felt a sense of empathy between the two of them; two people likely a bit tired with the way their lives were going and hoping that something better would come along. Dean might have been relatively content with his life as it was now, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t hard sometimes. He worked so much these days that he had much less time to spend with Sammy than he had had during the first six months of the pup’s life, and although Dean refused to complain, the exhaustion sometimes ate at him so much that the urge to cry once he got to collapse in his bed was greater than he dared to admit. Especially since Sam also seemed to have taken up some sleeping trouble since moving to Sioux Falls; he simply refused to sleep unless it was Dean putting him to bed. Sometimes he even refused to keep on sleeping if Dean tried to leave, whining immediately when Dean went too far. This had resulted in some restless nights, with Sam either sleeping on his chest in Dean’s bed or Dean staying up later with Sam until he was in such a deep dream that he didn’t wake up anymore.

And Dean was still afraid too. The only reason he believed he hadn’t been having any more nightmares lately was likely due to the fact that he was just too tired to dream at all.

Dean couldn’t be sure what had made the man in the trenchcoat so tired, but it still felt somewhat better to know he wasn’t the only one feeling that way about life.

The other reason Dean always gave the man a smile was that he was a mystery. No one at the café knew his name even though he was a regular, calling him just by one of his three nicknames ‘Mr. Trenchcoat’, ‘Blue Eyes’ or ‘Tips Well’. Dean didn’t even know his Type, because the man wore scent blockers. And not even the good kind that toned down one’s scent, but the ones that just smelled like cleaning products. Dean wondered what he was trying to hide or escape from, but once again could feel sympathy. He would’ve liked to be back on his old scent blockers that had masked his Type scent, rather than amplified it. Likely half the reason for the stares at the café and at The Roadhouse were due to the fact that he smelled so strongly like an Omega, and therefore like a buffet to any asshole knothead Alpha.

...

Halloween rolled around, and a few days before it, Charlie had announced that she was having a party at her apartment and everyone at the coffee shop who wanted to come was invited. She was even giving out fliers and had hung one by the café door.

“You’ll come right?” She had asked Dean when it had got a little quieter at the coffee shop. “It’ll be the party of the year!”

“I can believe that.” Dean had said, as he put more muffins under the glass, shooting Charlie a smile over his shoulder. “But I can’t, sorry. I gotta work.”

Charlie had raised an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t work on Saturdays.”

“It’s my other job. I work there on Saturdays.”

Charlie had smiled then, almost sympathetically. “I get it, man, don’t sweat it. Not everyone can get a full ride, and even if you did – like me – you’d probably still need a job – like me – to be able to eat something decent once a month.”

Dean had chuckled at that, hoping he was able to cover up his real mix of emotions at Charlie’s words. Because, yeah, he was working so many jobs in order to pay for college, but it wasn’t his own like Charlie was doing. He tended to forget how young he actually was sometimes, when he felt so old all the time. If his life had been a little different, he might have graduated college by now. Or maybe he’d be in his final year, if he had been able to take a gap year and, like, gone backpacking across Europe or something? Done volunteer work or something like that while he was there. (This Other Dean in his mind didn’t want to throw up just over the thought of getting on a plane.) He would’ve finished high school too, maybe taken the hottest person, whichever gender or Type they may be, to the prom? He’d have got good grades and been in a few sports teams, with tons of friends and parents who came to watch all his games, no matter how small or insignificant. He might even have been offered a sports scholarship.

Dean wasn’t sure if Other Dean was an Omega or not. When he’d been younger, right after he’d presented and then not long after he had started to live at _that house_ , to be able to not be an Omega had been his biggest wish in the world. It was the reason his father was so disappointed that he’d no longer wanted to have anything to do with Dean and had given him away to _that house_. Now, he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He supposed becoming a parent himself had given him new perspective. He couldn’t imagine ever doing to Sam what John had done to him, no matter how Sam would present. Right off the bat when Dean had learnt that he was carrying a new life within him, he had decided that no matter what he turned out to be, Sam would get the same choices, the same treatment and the same rules as any Alpha from him at least, if no one else in the world. Sam would also get all those nice things in life that Other Dean had.

Halloween eventually came and went. Dean kept reassuring himself that Sam was still too young to go trick-or-treating but he still felt bad he couldn’t spend the night with his son. But it couldn’t be helped, because The Roadhouse was going to be packed. Still, Dean dressed Sam in his bear onesie that Benny had bought for him when Sam had been born. It had been far too big at the time, Benny overestimating the size of a newborn, but now it was just right and Sam did look downright adorable in it. Dean couldn’t resist taking a photo with Ellen’s digital camera, and hoped he could get it developed for his album, maybe.

During the day, before his shift, he’d also baked pumpkin pie for everyone and cooked a delicious, if he said so himself, meal of a whole roasted chicken with roasted vegetables and potatoes to go with it. Jo came over for the early dinner too, as she tended to do on the days she knew Dean would be cooking (she claimed she only liked the change to her mother’s cooking once in a while, rather than thinking that Dean’s cooking was superior, but her Mom had still given her a whack with the wooden spoon) and they all ate together. Sam even got pumpkin puree for the occasion.

It was nice. Dean enjoyed the nights when he was able to cook for a large number of people; it made seeing them all eat it and enjoy it seem so rewarding and it made warm, happy tingles break out around his chest area. Dean had never before shared a meal with more than two other people at most, so being able to feed a bigger crowd was very refreshing in a familial, homey sort of way.

Which was good because work that night turned out to be quite hellish instead. As predicted, the pub was fully packed with people who had been looking for an excuse to celebrate and get drunk. People were drinking and yelling, and although The Roadhouse obviously made quite a bit of profit, the drunkards tended to forget to tip a lot of the time and yell a lot more profanities than usual, so even if they were thrown out for that, the night didn’t feel rewarding to Dean at all. Not to mention Sam had had another uneasy night and he hadn’t slept nearly as well as he should’ve, making him somewhat tired even before he came to work.

Then, sometime after midnight, he saw him. Sitting alone, nursing a mug of beer at a single round table, was Mr. Trenchcoat. He somehow managed to look even more tired here in the bar, and incredibly pathetic the way he was slouching and slowly drinking his beer all alone on Halloween. But still, ironically enough, seeing him made Dean feel a bit better about tonight. It was nice to know that amongst all these drunken, jolly people he wasn’t the only one miserable.

With that thought, he poured another beer, and said over to Jo, who was serving behind the bar: “Put this one on me.” before going over to Mr. Trenchcoat and simply placing the beer in front of him.

“On the house.” Dean said, as the other man looked up. The lines on Blue Eyes’ face seemed to fade just a little as his expression relaxed from a sad frown into a look of surprise.

“You...don’t you work at Black Sheep Coffee?” His gravelly, deep voice was always somewhat surprising to hear from a guy who was shorter than Dean. Even now, though it was clearly the man’s night off, he still smelt of the cleaning supply scent blockers and was all dressed up in his suit, making him stand out in the pub.

“Yeah, this is my second job; I just help out here on weekends.” Dean said with a small smile, hoping it would make the other man cheer up a little.

Mr. Trenchcoat then began to go through his pockets, coming out with a wallet. “Then please, let me pay you for this beer, I really don’t need a free one...”

Dean waved his money away with his hand. What was one beer to his wallet if it made the guy’s mood improve a little? “Don’t sweat it. You look like you need it.” Just then, he saw Jo waving him back over to the bar where a tray full of glasses filled with alcohol and some dishes of snacks sat. Dean had to get back to handing people at the tables their drinks and food. Therefore, he turned to Blue Eyes one more time and said: “Hope your night gets better. Happy Halloween!” before heading back over to the counter to take the tray.

After that, the night continued much the same, but it felt like Dean had been given new strength to deal with all the drunken assholes in the world, knowing he had at least tried to make someone else’s night a bit better. He didn’t see Mr. Trenchcoat anymore that night, and when he went to pick up the glasses from his table not too long later, he was no longer there. But he had finished his second beer, too.

What's more, there was a hundred dollar bill underneath one of the glasses.

Surely he couldn’t have tipped _that_ much? But who forgot a hundred dollar bill in a pub, especially if it was placed under a beer pint? Surely no one was that stupid on purpose? Dean even checked the money to make sure it was genuine. It looked real enough to him at least, though he was no expert.

Dean took the money, and underneath it found one of The Roadhouse’s issued napkins. On it was written:

_“Dear Dean,_

_I’d forgotten how kind people can sometimes be. Thank you for reminding me. I hope your night gets better with this money too._

_Happy All Hallow’s Eve,_

_~Cas”_

Well, apparently he finally had a name to attach to the face. Though he wondered what kind of a name “Cas” was? It was probably short for something...

Dean went back behind the counter and put the money in the tip jar by the wall behind it. It wouldn’t be fair if he didn’t share the wealth with everyone else after anight like this. Even split, he’d be getting quite a bit out of it if it turned out to be real money. The napkin he put in his jeans pocket though, planning to keep it as a reminder when he would inevitably start feeling hopeless and tired with his life once more.

The rest of the night went much the same; some people had to be thrown out because they were getting too drunk and others were allowed in to begin the cycle all over again. But Dean found that although he was getting more and more tired, he wasn’t as irritated as he had been before the large tip. It looked as though Cas, too, had reminded him of how kind people could be and Cas had indeed made his Halloween better too.

Finally, after many tiring and sweaty hours, the night – and thereby Dean’s shift – was – over. Ellen thanked all of her workers for their efforts and assured them they would all be getting a bonus, aside from the tips which they would be given later together because no one could be expected to do math after a night like this. Ellen was a reliable boss, so with gratitude for the bonus and the tips they were sure to get, everyone went home. Ellen took both Jo and Dean to her car and dropped Jo off before driving with Dean back to where they lived.

Dean peeked into Sam’s nursery for a bit to see if the pup was sleeping well and peacefully (which he was, for once), before heading over to his own bed. He only took off his shoes, flannel shirt and jeans before crawling under the covers and falling into a deep sleep.

A bit later during the following week, Ellen gave him his share of the tipsand let him know that his bonus pay had been put on his account. Even the tip money was better than Dean had thought, and he put them in his savings jar.

Later that day, when he and Ellen were cooking together, Ellen said to him: “Ya know, I saw a hundred dollar bill in the tips. Would you know anything about that, by any chance?”

“I, uh..” Dean gulped. Hopefully he wouldn’t get in trouble for the free beer. He had put money for it in the register from his own savings and it wasn’t like it had hurt anyone right? “I may have given some guy a free beer. I paid for it the next day though! He just looked so sad ‘n stuff. But apparently it paid off because he tipped so well...”

“Honey, I’m not accusing you of anything, just wondering what happened. Do you know this guy?”

Dean shrugged, stirring the pot where pasta sauce was cooking. “Not really. He’s a regular at the café and he always tips well. But I didn’t even know his name until last night and I have a feeling it’s not even his full name.”

Ellen put her hand on his arm, and her scent is citrus sour with worry. “Just don’t ever let anyone make you feel like you have to do more than you’re doing just for tips, Dean.”

“Ellen, he didn’t do anything inappropriate. He’s basically the only customer I’ve had who doesn’t look at me like I’m a piece of meat. He’s just a good guy and I did a nice thing for him, so he wanted to pay me back. It’s not a big deal.”

“If you say so.” Ellen said, stirring the pasta. But the citrus scent of worry didn’t quite go away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect the next update in about a week.


	5. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this was delayed (again)! I had to rewrite one scene AGAIN before posting this to get everything as right as I could with all the medical bullshit. Honestly, this chapter has almost been more trouble than it's been worth, since I had to rewrite the same friggin' scene like four times >:(.
> 
> Incidentally, special thanks to my Beta Eghfeithrean, my friend MashiarasDream and my parents for their help with the medical stuff and for listening to my woes about them. Cultural differences were to be had even in this area, apparently, making things even more difficult, but I did the best I could with the advice all of them gave me.

Sam’s six month birthday came around and Ellen baked a cake with peaches for the occasion. Dean took another photo with Sam in his high chair with the cake in front of him, with the sparkling candle on top that Sam was eyeing with wonder. Dean was just about able to snap that photo before he had to grab Sam so he wouldn’t take a hold of the candle and hurt himself. The cake was good though, even if Dean might’ve preferred pie, and it was soft and creamy enough that he was even able to feed the guest of honour some, as well as some of the cut-up peaches. Sam smiled so widely afterwards and giggled, and said so many “Da, Da, Da!”s to that that he seemed to like the taste a lot too.

That was the last good day for a while. Sam’s restlessness and lack of sleep, and maybe the stress of moving finally kicked in and one morning Dean woke up to hearing Sam’s whimpers on the baby monitor. When he went to check up on the pup, he discovered that Sam was burning up. So far Sam had been relatively healthy during his short life, but these kinds of things were still not unexpected or unusual in a pup Sam’s age, especially with such a life-altering change having happened not too long ago. It was probably only now really hitting Sam that they would be staying here for a longer time than he’d thought; that he might not smell or see any of the things he had got used to within his lifetime for who knew how long. Dean called in sick that first day and stayed to look after Sammy. He expected the poor pup to get better in a few days, as he always had.

But Sam didn’t get better. He got worse for a while, though not by much, and Dean had thought after that the fever would start to come down. But it didn’t. It would go down for a while but always rose back up again. It was likely because Sam was sleeping even less now that he was sick, which had never happened before. Usually Sam had slept through his illnesses almost completely. In addition, Dean still had to work and he didn’t dare to miss too many days since he was still so new at the coffee shop, barely out of his trial period. Still, hearing Sam had barely slept while he’d been at work hurt him worse than he could say. The guilt gnawed at him something awful, creeping up on him even when he was least expecting it. It was hard enough seeing Sam in pain, but knowing he could be there to ease it and wasn’t made it so much worse. One night after Sam had finally fallen asleep, Dean actually found himself fighting tears over the whole thing as he laid in bed during the small hours.

Eventually, Bobby and Ellen sat him down when Sam was down for a nap. “We think it’s about time you take your pup to see a doctor, Dean.”

Dean nodded, though somewhat hesitantly. “Are you sure Bobby? It _is_ just a cold...”

“He should be getting better. He ain’t. It might be something more serious, something we just can’t see; it’s best to get it checked out.” Ellen said.

Dean squirmed in his seat, hating what was going on in his mind. Of course Sam needed to see a doctor, this just wasn’t normal by any means and who knew what it could actually be, but... “I don’t have insurance anymore. Our health insurance was _His_ and He has discontinued paying for it.” Likely because he could get free health care in jail, and had wanted to punish Dean by making his life more difficult. Not that Dean would’ve wanted to use it; the mere idea of that made him sick, but it would’ve at least been a means to an end. “I can’t pay for Sam to see a doctor.”

Ellen smiled at him in that sad way, putting a hand on his arm, while Bobby just snorted. “You shoulda said something, boy. We’ll lend you some money, don’t worry about it.”

After some protesting on Dean’s part, consisting mostly of how they had already done far too much to help him and Sam, he ended up accepting it when Bobby and Ellen explained that they also hated seeing Sam, and by that extension, Dean, suffer. So soon after, Dean made a call to the clinic at Sanford Children’s Hospital to book an appointment for the next morning with the doctor on call. He was told they’d be taken care of by a “Dr. Castiel Novak”. What kind of a name was that, he asked himself. The doctor in question was apparently still in residency to specialise in children’s medicine, but perfectly capable as a paediatrician of looking after a child with a cold.

The next day Dean headed over with a bundled-up Sam to the Children’s Hospital. The way it looked took Dean by a surprise; it was built to resemble a castle with its light grey stone walls, four towers in its four corners with bright blue roofs, and the added walls made of darker rock which suspiciously resembled castle walls. The name of the hospital was written on one of the “towers” with colourful letters and the hospital itself was surrounded by a charming garden, which of course now was turning a bit yellow and brown due to the season, but was likely lovely in the summer when the flowers would all be blooming. The place wasn’t just your standard clinical hospital, but had instead clearly been designed with its little patients in mind; that no matter how long they would have to stay there, they would feel like they were in a castle rather than a prison.

The parking lot of the hospital was behind the building, so Dean drove and turned off the Impala there. Then he took Sam into his arms from the carseat and, with a diaper bag on his shoulder, walked towards the entrance, shaped roundly likely to resemble a castle gate, underneath a canopy that made Dean think of drawbridges.

The front room was just as welcoming and charming as the outside of the hospital. It was decorated with warm white colours, wooden support planks at the ceiling and balconies on three sides of the room. On the floor, there was a painted map of the earth, with its dark blue oceans and soft orange continents. The ceiling was also painted dark blue, but with lighter spots in it so that it resembled the night sky. The castle theme continued with different fake flags hanging above here and there, the warm inviting fireplace with a coat of arms hung to decorate it and the ceiling that rose higher towards the middle. There were also comfortable-looking black and red chairs placed by tables with lamps on them. Dean walked past all this, taking it in, towards the information desk. Although he hoped that Sam would never get so ill that he would need to spend an extended amount of time here, at least Dean got the feeling that he would be in good hands if he would someday have to.

The receptionist was a young dark-haired and dark-eyed woman with a crucifix hanging around her neck and a nametag that said ‘Nancy’, who looked up from typing on the computer as she saw Dean closing in. “Good day, welcome to Sanford Children’s Hospital. How may I help you today?”

“Hi, yes, my name is Dean Winchester, I have an appointment with a Dr. Novak for my son, Sam Winchester?”

“One moment, please.” The receptionist said, holding up a finger as she turned back to face the computer to type their names in. In the meantime Dean took a look at the picture on the wall behind the information desk, which featured a bear carrying a flag in his paw and a buffalo hiding behind a rock. Between them was a road that led to a castle in the distance that suspiciously resembled the Children’s Hospital they were currently inside of. “Yes, an appointment to check up on a baby’s flu that is not getting better. Just go to your right from here.” She pointed towards the corridor continuing to that direction. “You will soon reach another information desk, where you can register for your appointment. You can’t miss it; simply follow the frog artwork.”

Frog artwork? “All right, thank you very much, Nancy.” Dean said, giving her a bit of a flirty smile. She just smiled in an indulging way, knowing he wasn’t being serious about it, and clearly smelling his Omega scent.

Dean headed to the pointed direction and soon noticed what she had meant by frog artwork; much of the walls was decorated by frogs in colourful party hats that were also slightly three-dimensional, standing up from the wall and making faces at the passing people. The castle theme continued with the artwork and indoor walls resembling castle walls as well.

Dean eventually found the right desk and got a form to fill out for Sammy, for the information about insurance and so on. Thankfully there were baby chairs for him to put Sam in after undressing him from his outdoor clothes as he wrote down the information and gave it back to the older receptionist.

“Dr. Novak will be with you shortly.” The receptionist said with a smile as Dean handed over the papers, so he went back to sit down and wait, taking Sam back to his lap, bouncing him there gently. The waiting hall they were in was quite nice, decorated with various chairs and having many books and activities for children to spend their time on as they waited for their appointments. There were a few parents with their children there too, some of them playing or being read to, some simply sitting or sleeping (though those were mostly infants).

After a moment, one of the doors down the corridor opened and a deep rough voice that sounded vaguely familiar called out: “Winchester?”

Dean hopped off his seat with Sam in his arms and diaper bag on his shoulder, and walked towards the open door. Inside was the doctor in the regular white coat, with a stethoscope hanging around his neck and what looked like a tiny bee plushie in one of his pockets, with a tie and dark pants, as Dean had been expecting (well, except maybe for the bee). What he hadn’t been expecting was for the doctor to have dark hair, plush pink lips and the bluest eyes Dean had ever seen on a person.

It was Mr. Trenchcoat. AKA Cas. AKA, of course, Dr. Castiel Novak.

Dr. Novak realised what Dean knew right at the same moment, judging by the way his eyes widened, his shoulders tensed and he took in a nervous breath of air. But as he let it out, his shoulders seemed to relax a little and he gave Dean a somewhat sheepish half-smile. “Well, this is a bit of a surprise. But I guess this explains why you work two jobs.”

Dean let out a soft snort, just to do something and not seem so awkward from where he was standing. “Three, actually.” He said, and then swallowed to clear his suddenly dry throat. He didn’t quite understand why he was so nervous and caught off-guard. It wasn’t like people didn’t ever meet their doctors outside their work. But he supposed that when he hadn’t known Mr. Trenchcoat’s real name, and Dr. Novak hadn’t known anything about Dean except for his first name, it had been easier to be around him and be friendly to him; to see someone who was like himself. But now that they would know more about each other, now that Dr. Novak knew something about Dean that none of his coworkers didn’t, the illusion of that type of sympathy of the souls would vanish. And for that, Dean was disappointed. Seeing Blue Eyes every day at work had given him something to look forward to, had given him motivation to keep working through even the rudest of customers. Just knowing that there was one friendly face out there who was going through something similar as Dean was had given him strength and courage.

But now he wouldn’t be able to imagine that anymore. Dr. Novak, here at his job, looked every bit a good doctor with his coat and stethoscope and he was clearly making good money, if his tips were anything to go by. He didn’t even appear tired here, and the bags underneath his eyes looked lighter. Dean had to wonder if he had only seen weariness in him because that had been what he had wanted to see. Or if he had just seen reflections of himself in him.

Finally, Dean sighed. “Look, I swear I didn’t know who you were, but I can get another appointment with another paediatrician if this is going to be awkward.”

Dr. Novak raised an eyebrow at that. “No, no, absolutely not. I was merely taken by surprise. This ought not take long in any case.”

Dean nodded. “Okay then. So, you have Sam’s information and stuff?”

“Yes, right here.” Dr. Novak took a paper off the desk. “Please, have a seat for now.” He gestured towards the armchair at the other end of the room. Dean walked over to it, set the diaper bag down at his feet and sat down with Sam on his lap once more as Dr. Novak looked over Sam’s chart.

“So, you say Sam appears to just have a normal cold, but it’s not getting better. How long has he been ill?”

“Today’s the tenth day. He’s restless and can’t sleep or eat much, so I think that’s why he’s not healing, but I’m worried it’s something more serious.”

“You did the right by coming here, it’s always good to make sure, especially with young children.” Dr. Novak reassured. “What other symptoms than fever have you noticed? Does he cough, have difficulty breathing or anything similar?”

“He’s got a runny nose and a bit of a cough, but mostly it’s just the fever I think.” Dean said, a little out of his element. He had barely ever gone to see a doctor in his life and so wasn’t sure what he was expected to say.

Dr. Novak simply nodded, before taking the stethoscope around his neck in his hands and putting so that it was hanging around his neck by its metal ring instead of just being carelessly draped over his shoulders by its whole length. “I’ll listen to his lungs now.

Dean nodded as well, before beginning to untuck Sam’s shirt from his pants, so Dr. Novak could put the end of the stethoscope against Sam’s bare back. Sam shivered in his arms, smelling of distress, so Dean shushed him under his breath: “It’s okay, Sammy. It’s just a while. Then you’ll get better.”

“Try and hold him still, the stethoscope might be cold.” Dr. Novak said, as he put the buds of the stethoscope to his ears and approached them, crouching down so Dean didn’t have to stand up for him to listen to Sam’s lungs. Sam whined as the metal end of the stethoscope touched his back, so Dean tried to make soothing sounds and keep him still as well as he could. Dr. Novak held the stethoscope still for a moment, before moving on to another spot on Sam’s back, and then another.

Finally, he stood up and took the buds of the stethoscope out of his ears. “I couldn’t hear anything wrong with his lungs,” He said, then paused for a moment, before taking form Dean had filled in hand once more, looking over it. His general frown deepened some, and he seemed to pause and hesitate for a moment, as if thinking something over. After a while, he seemed to come to a decision about whatever he had been thinking about, and turned back to talk to Dean. “I would like to take a blood sample from Sam to look into his CRP values. It help me make sure he doesn’t have pneumonia or anything equally serious.”

“Will it take long? I still need to go to work today...” Dean said. He had been able to get morning off when he’d told Bela Talbot he needed to take Sam to see a doctor, but he had promised to be there later to the day.

“Taking the blood will only take a moment, but it might take longer to find out what the results are. However, since we have your contact information, I can have someone give you a call or send you a message about the results once they are done. Would that be acceptable to you?”

“Yeah, that should work. Though a text might be better, if you guys can do that – if I’m at work, I might not be able to answer my phone.”

Dr. Novak nodded, “I shall make a note of it.” Then he went to get a fresh needle from a cupboard. “If you know anything to keep him distracted during the procedure, please let me know.”

Dean thought about it, when his eyes hit the toy in the doctor’s coat pocket “How about your bee? I could distract him with that.” Dean said with a light smile, pointing towards the toy. Indeed, Sam hadn’t taken his eyes off it since they had arrived.

Dr. Novak smiled back at him, and Dean’s heart made a minor jump. He looked a lot younger when he smiled, though it was difficult to tell his exact age in the first place. His eyes seemed to lighten in their colour, it brought out his pearly white teeth and made charming little crinkles break out around his eyes. Dean had considered him attractive from the beginning, but to see him smile for real rather than with the tired smile he gave in return for Dean’s own at the café made him into something else entirely.

“That is rather its purpose.” He took the plushie out from his pocket and handed it over to Dean. “If you would please hold it for him. You may also place him on the bed there.”

Dean stood up with Sam and laid the pup on the hospital bed. He stood right by him by the bed, holding the toy in front of him, shaking it and making buzzing noises for Sam’s amusement. Before he knew it, Dr. Novak had come over with the needle, cleaned a piece of skin of Sam’s arm and had taken some of Sam’s blood with the tiny baby needle. Sam cried predictably during the procedure and afterwards, but Dean took him in his arms and soothed him fairly quickly to mere slight fussing.

“Please wait a moment while I take this to be tested.” Dr. Novak said, walking out of the room. In the meantime, Dean redressed Sammy and tried to soothe away the pain with hugs and kisses and the bee that he was still holding onto.

Slowly, Sam calmed down for good and actually began to doze off. All the better, Dean figured. The more rest Sammy got, the sooner he would get better. That was why they were here after all. Dean hummed “Hey Jude” quietly under his breath, and soon enough Sam was asleep against his shoulder. He kept rocking him just a bit for a while longer before being sure that Sam was really asleep.

Dr. Novak came back then, and Dean quickly raised a finger to his mouth to gesture him to be quiet, flicking his eyes to the pup on his shoulder. The doctor nodded, his lips slightly upturned and closed the door very gently behind himself.

The then murmured softly: “Should I be completely silent, or can we discuss Sam’s health in more detail while he sleeps?”

Dean glanced over at Sam. Still dead to the world for now at least. “I think we can talk, if we’re quiet.”

“If you want to, you may put him in the crib over there.” He gestured to the one by the wall, which Dean had to admit was pretty convenient to have in a place like this, as he took a seat of his own in front of Dean.

Still… “I, uh...I better not. He might wake up. Like I said, he hasn’t been able to sleep very well lately, at least not without me close by.”

The doctor raised an eyebrow. “And this is not common?”

“No. Usually Sammy sleeps well; he falls asleep easily and sleeps through the night now that he doesn’t need nightly feedings anymore.”

“Do you have any ideas as to why he might not be sleeping?”

“Yeah, I have one. Um...” He thought about how to say what he was going to say, testing the words on his tongue. “I’ve only recently moved here, maybe you’ve guessed that, and I live with a family friend currently. Before I came here though, I lived with my friend, who was an Alpha. I tried to do as much as I could by myself when it came to taking care of Sammy, but sometimes my friend would regardless step in and in the end we did fall into a sort of routine where he did certain things and I did other things in regards to Sammy. The point is, Sam’s sire’s not around, and wasn’t around at that point either, so I think Sam may have scent-bonded with my friend as if he were his Alpha Dad. It tended to be my friend’s thing to put Sam to bed, so now he’s restless when that is done by someone other than me, and even when I do it he’s not completely calm, so I think he probably misses him.”

Dr. Novak nodded “It is more than likely that Sam has indeed scent-bonded with your friend, if you lived with him so early in Sam’s life and if Sam’s biological sire was also an Alpha male. His biology knows the Types of his parents subconsciously so he probably thought you two were his parents, especially if you also acted that way regarding Sam. But this friend of yours is not here with you?”

Dean could tell the doctor thought what everyone else had thought; that Benny had been his lover. He probably figured he and Benny had broken up and that’s why Dean had come here. “No. He has his own mate and life back there.”

Dr. Novak’s eyes widened slightly for a second, confirming to Dean what he had been thinking, but thankfully that was all the reaction he presented of his thoughts. “Are you still on good terms with him?”

“I’d say so, yeah. We departed as friends and I still text him about stuff sometimes.”

“Then what I suggest is that you ask him to scent a piece of clothing by wearing it, preferably something soft like a sweater or a t-shirt, which he does not currently necessarily need. After that, ask him to send it over to you. Have Sam hang on to it, perhaps sleep with it. The scent will slowly fade away from the piece of clothing, and it will be easier on Sam than just suddenly ripping him away from the source of the scent. The sooner you do this, the sooner I think Sam will sleep and get better.” Dr. Novak said.

“All right, that sounds good. I’ll text him about it. Thanks, doc.”

“Not at all.” Dr. Novak said with a light smile.

There was a moment’s silence, which caused the hairs at the back of Dean’s neck to rise and his palms sweat.

Then, Dr. Novak spoke again: “To be perfectly honest, Dean, I never even considered the possibility of you having a child.” He was eyeing Dean’s neck now, obviously looking for a mating bite. These days Dean tended to cover the mark even the days he wasn’t working at the coffee shop because it made him feel almost...free, in a strange sort of way. Like everything that had happened at _that house_ had only been a bad dream and he could and should just leave it behind and forget about it. He could pretend for a while to be someone else and slowly start to build himself up from the ground. Because as an adult, Dean didn’t really know who he was. At _that house_ it had been better, easier if he didn’t think, and tried not to feel. He had been loud, once. He had been open, once. Now he didn’t know what he was, but was trying to figure it out. It was easier to do that without that damn bite reminding him of the person he had been all the time.

“I’m divorced. The bite is hidden under make-up. My boss makes me wear it.” Dean realised that he didn’t really need to tell the paediatrician this, but there was no reason for him to hide it either. Who knows, it could be relevant to Sam’s health in some way.

“I see.” Dr. Novak said softly. There didn’t seem to be any judgement or pity in his tone or his eyes, and for that Dean was grateful. He didn’t need either of those right now, or ever really, about this particular issue. “And Sam’s sire? Has he been a part of Sam’s life?”

Dean snorted. “No. I left before Sammy was born and He has never been around Sam alone afterwards. And if I’ll have any say in it, He never will either.”

Dr. Novak frowned at that, and Dean felt the hot fire of anger boiling somewhere in his gut at that. Who was he to judge Dean for leaving, for keeping Him away from Sam? This man didn’t know anything about Dean and Sam’s situation, had no idea what Dean had been through and why Sam’s sire would never be deserving of seeing His son in Dean’s eyes. He would bring nothing good to Sam, and as long as there was breath in Dean He wouldn’t be coming anywhere near the pup.

Perhaps Dr. Novak saw what Dean was feeling on his face, or smelled his bitter rage, or maybe Dean had just misjudged him, because the next thing he said was: “It is good that Sam hasn’t spent time around him, hasn’t bonded with him. A bond to a fake-sire isn’t so difficult to break, especially since Sam is still so young and will forget soon enough, but even a young pup tends to be able to tell their birthgiver and sire by their smells if they are around them long enough. It would be a much more difficult bond to break, so if you are not going to be in touch with Sam’s sire, it is better they have not bonded at all.”

Dean was honestly surprised. That was probably the least judgement he had ever got for his situation by someone who didn’t know at least some of the details about the divorce and the reasons behind it. But the doctor had been completely professional, only concerned for Sam’s health and not judgemental or questioning of Dean’s motives at all. Dean suddenly felt bad he had even thought that about him, even if a part of his brain kept whispering that he couldn’t be sure if Dr. Novak was even being sincere. But...something deeper, something like a gut feeling, an instinct he didn’t quite understand was telling Dean that he was.

So Dean didn’t comment on it, and changed the topic instead: “Doctor, I...I was on scent-blockers for a while, but now I’ve changed them to scent enhancers instead, ‘cause my boss insisted. Do you...do you think it will somehow affect Sam’s bonding with me? The baby books weren’t all that clear on that...” It had taken far too much effort to find any literature about newborns with divorced parents, because in Kansas Alpha-Omega divorces were still relatively rare. Omegas tended to be conditioned t learn to adjust to whatever their Alpha was doing. They also might not be able find a support system for themselves if they decided to leave the marriage, which led to the fact that most stayed in them no matter how bad it got. Besides, Dean imagined no one liked to think of a scenario where a baby would be born into a world where their parents were already not together, so naturally the books would be under a rock. He had talked about the scent blockers with his birth-assisting doctor and read over the one book he and Benny had managed to find on the topic, and had done as they had both recommended and stayed off the blockers for the first month of Sam’s life so he would get used to Dean’s real scent first. Then, after he had taken up the blockers again, he had kept Sam close to his neck when holding him so Sam would get hints of his real smell at its source, and had scented up his shirts once a week without the blockers so the real scent would be at least surrounding him, if it wasn’t on his actual skin.

Still, being without the blockers so early had been a challenge, because sad as it was, they had been invented for a reason as divorce grew slightly more common and socially acceptable. They helped to mask the smell of the ex-mate on one’s skin and created an illusion that it wasn’t there until it would fade on its own, which tended to happen within a year of the separation. Without them, especially after Sam had been born, Dean had had moments of deep, profound feelings of helplessness, of being lost and lonely and utterly, utterly _miserable_. All of his body had been asking him “Why are you caring for the pup alone? Why aren’t you home? Where’s Alpha? Where’s Alpha?”

Dean had intellectually known that it was just his biology, instincts and inner Omega telling him to find shelter in his Alpha when he was frightened _(but he couldn’t, he couldn’t, because his ex was the very **reason** he was frightened)_ , and he had always eventually managed to shut them down, but...well, being on the scent-blockers made it so much easier, because they shut those instincts down and fooled Dean’s biology into thinking he was just naturally single. He was now almost done using any kind of scent-masking, and would probably start trying to use them less, but he didn’t know anything about what the effects of changing the type of scent-masking in-between the process could have on a pup. But he figured he hadn’t worn them long enough yet, or that much around Sam, that they would’ve done much harm so far. He just needed to know if they would, so he could change them in time before making a commitment to using them for the upcoming month.

There was a strange sort of expression on the doctor’s face all of a sudden. His eyes were wide and his lips were slightly parted, but still upturned. He looked...relieved, elated almost somehow. Dean couldn’t imagine why though. Surely it wasn’t that good a thing he had changed to scent enhancers?

But as soon as that joyous expression had overtaken his face, it went away. He now looked...confused, or like he was deep in thought. And now there seemed to be a sad tinge to his expression too. Dean was more confused than ever, but wasn’t sure how to ask about anything that was going on inside Dr. Novak’s head.

In the end, he simply settled on mumbling out a “Doctor?” to get the other man’s attention, when it seemed like he wasn’t coming out of his trance anytime soon and Dean had still not received an answer.

“Oh, my apologies.” Dr. Novak said, clearing his throat. “Do you wear the scent enhancers all the time or only at work?”

“Mostly at work, but I don’t always shower in-between that and before I take care of Sammy. I don’t wear them on my days off though, and I still keep scenting my shirts for Sam and holding him close to my neck, like I was told to do when I started using the scent-blockers.”

Dr. Novak nodded. “In that case, it should be fine, I should think. Simply keep doing what you are doing. Are you planning on using the enhancers for much longer?”

“Probably not. I’ll start trying to manage without any scent-masking pretty soon, I think, since we’ll soon have been separated for nine months already.” Gosh, did it feel weird to say it like that. It didn’t seem like it had been that long.

“Then I think you should be fine.” Dr. Novak said, but the strange twinkle in his eyes didn’t fade. He was now almost outright smiling, with a sense of joy surrounding him. But Dean still couldn’t smell anything on him, even less than normal with the sanitised scent of the hospital dulling his senses, so it was difficult to tell exactly what he was feeling and why.

Instead, Dean realised that he now smelled something else. Namely, Sam’s wet diaper. Sam was indeed beginning to stir from his sleep and make quiet, tired whiny noises indicating his discomfort, not having the strength to communicate in a stronger manner.

“I think Sammy needs a diaper change.” Dean said, beginning to get up as he soothed Sam by softly rocking him.

“Of course. There is a changing room for babies a few doors down the hall.” Dr. Novak said as Dean picked up the diaper bag.

“All right, thanks. We’ll be right back.”

“Take your time.”

On that somewhat awkward note, Dean left the room, going further down the hall as instructed. He soon located the appropriate door by the bathrooms, where it was marked by a sign of a baby in a diaper. The regular bathroom doors were on either side of it and when Dean stepped inside he noticed there were doors on the inside of the changing room that lead to the bathrooms as well. The system made him smile, since it didn’t make assumptions about who would be changing a baby’s diaper. He went over to the changing station, quickly cleaned and changed Sam up with the supplies he had brought. Once Sam was comfortable again, and beginning to fall back asleep from his fever, Dean picked him and the diaper bag up again and headed back to Dr. Novak’s room.

The paediatrician was still sitting down when he arrived, but stood up at the sight of Dean. “Is Sam feeling better now?”

“Yes, thank you.” Dean said. “Is there anything else you need to know?”

Dr. Novak shook his head. “Not right now. You will likely hear the test results later in the day. However, I believe that if you can get Sam to sleep, I believe he will be fine. Try out my advice, but if it doesn’t help Sam sleep, please do not hesitate to come again, and we might prescribe him something to help him sleep. You should also make another appointment as soon as possible if it turns out Sam does indeed have pneumonia, or if he simply won’t begin to get better on his own with some sleep.”

The thought of giving a pup as little as Sam any drugs unnerved Dean more than a little, but he didn’t say anything and simply nodded. He would only have to hope that the tests would come back negative and Sam would get better with some sleep.

“Well, if there’s nothing else...” Dean mumbled. “We’ll get going.”

“All right then.” Dr. Novak walked him to the door of the examination room. “I meant what I said. Don’t hesitate to call or come again if Sam still won’t get better. We’ll help the best we can.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Dean said.

Dr. Novak smiled at him one last time, this time softly and empathically. “Do not worry. This is just a minor bump in the road. It will be all right.”

And as sad as it was, Dean felt himself relax to the point he almost cried at those words. They were all he had ever wanted to hear. He tried his best with Sam, he really did, but in a way he believed his own father had tried his best with him as well, and look how well that had worked out. And Sam had been sick for so long and Dean hadn’t been able to do anything to make it better. He only now realised it had made him doubt his skills as a parent more than he’d understood. So to hear that he was doing okay, from the mouth of a person who worked with children and their health daily, was heartening.

He was barely able to mumble out a thanks as he awkwardly made his way out of the hospital, but still feeling lighter than he had in a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be from Cas' point of view~.
> 
> Also, have Happy Holidays and a Wonderful New Year :). Oh, and I'll be posting a "short" Destiel Christmas Omegaverse story either on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day, so look out for it if you'd like to read it!


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